


Heirs of All Eternity

by Esin_of_Sardis



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Love's Labour's Lost, Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2019-04-23
Packaged: 2019-09-01 11:52:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 26,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16764604
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Esin_of_Sardis/pseuds/Esin_of_Sardis
Summary: The Marauders are back for their seventh year in the fall of 1977. And James has a new and radical idea. Based on Shakespeare's Love's Labour's Lost. Jily, Sirius/Marlene, Remus/Emmeline, Peter/OC.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been years since I've published something, and I've been sitting on this one for a long time. So here's the beginning of a new work, based on Shakespeare's Love's Labour's Lost. Let me know what you think!

Several important things happened in 1978. This is a story of those important events, but looking back, a few in particular set circumstance in motion, presented choices that otherwise would have slipped past unimagined.

  
The world was in a state of flux. Inventors and artist raced to see who could overturn life faster. Memory of wars turned into fear of another, and the total devastation it would bring. Haunted by their mortality, young men sought either oblivion or to etch their names into history. It would be years before anyone remembered this story. In 1978, no one even noticed when the world changed right before their eyes.

  
I suppose that’s why this story needs to be told.

  
And now, the beginning:

  
On the sixth of February 1977, Mrs. Dorea Potter died in her sleep after a long deterioration of her health. The next day, a muggle London magazine complained of the decline of true punk music.  
While the death of his mother was not unexpected, its effect on James Potter was significant. Maturity doesn’t appear overnight, but circumstances have a way of making it suddenly evident. James and his father, Charlus, were both present at Dorea’s passing, granting them the small mercy of a farewell.

  
Outside the mint-green room at St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries, in an uncomfortable wooden chair, Sirius Black sat alone. His fingers twisted in the hair that he wore long simply because it made him look like a delinquent and not the pure-blood heir he was. He wasn’t related to the ailing Mrs. Potter, so no matter how much of a second son he was to her, he was not allowed in.  
The year 1977 moved forward. The school year came to an end in June. James and Sirius’ marks dipped after the tragedy, but they passed, as did their friend, Peter Pettigrew. As for the fourth member of the Marauders, Remus Lupin passed easily and found the time to help his struggling friends with their work.

  
On the same day the Hogwarts Express brought them home, Sirius packed his things and left the Potters’ house. He couldn’t bear to stay there.

  
James met him at the door, blocking his way out. “Come on, mate. You don’t have to leave. Just cause you can support yourself now doesn’t mean you have to.”

  
“I don’t want to be a burden,” Sirius said.

  
“You’re not one and you’ll never be.” James crossed his arms. “Don’t start that bullshit with me. I’m your brother.”

  
“Please, James. I need to do this.” It wasn’t often that Sirius would plead. With a sigh, James stepped aside and watched until his best friend reached the property line and Disapparated.

  
Remus was the first and most frequent visitor at Sirius’ new flat. He thought his friend was a fool to give up his place with the Potters, but he also understood why he had to. Sorrow was something Remus knew intimately. So he sat with Sirius late into the night, supplied chocolate and tea—more for his own benefit—and argued over the cathartic merits of The Beatles versus Led Zeppelin.

  
Those visits didn’t last long. In early July Remus managed to get a job working in a muggle coffee bar, serving hopeful poets and ignoring whatever they added to their drinks. He poured his heart into the work, knowing he’d need the money in the years to come.

  
For nearly two months, the four friends saw little of each other as they each become immersed in their separate worlds. Letters were written in cramped handwriting in the dead of night and sent with over-rested owls. And as the year began to wane, the Marauders prepared for their final year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.


	2. Chapter 2

James Potter ran through the barrier into a cloud of white smoke. It would have been easier to simply Apparate onto the platform. But this was his last chance to run through as a student, rickety cart in front of him, and feel that inevitable rush of panic as an apparently solid wall came closer and closer to his crooked nose.

He pushed his cart forward, peering through the whiteness, trying to recognize the figures concealed in it. Slowly, the smoke dissipated to reveal the red steam engine that had only just pulled up to the platform.

The Hogwarts Express.

She gleamed in the sunlight that streamed through the dingy station skylights. Around her, hundreds of witches and wizards pushed past each other, saying goodbye and hauling trunks of every conceivable size and shape. Owls screeched over shouted goodbyes and mothers' hurried instructions. People jumped as cats slunk around their ankles.

Making good use of his height, James looked over the heads of the crowd. The familiar brown mop belonging to one Remus Lupin stuck out over by the Prefect's carriage. Sure enough, next to him, a little bit shorter, was Sirius Black. The bastard had decided to Apparate instead of join James in his nostalgic trip through the barrier from the muggle world. James headed in their direction, a grin on his face.

He was almost to his friends when the wheel of his cart caught in a pothole in the brick. The whole thing spun, then tipped, taking James with it. He landed on the ground in a twisted heap. He could only be thankful his owl, Brünnhilde, was off delivering a letter and not in her cage. Shocked, he froze on the ground, the palms of his hands stinging. His hair didn't hang far enough over his face to hide his burning cheeks.

"What took you so long?" Sirius asked, offering a hand to James, his mouth twitching as he tried not to laugh. James took it and was pulled up and into a hug.

"I can't just Apparate to the barrier, Padfoot. There are muggles everywhere. I had to walk." He ran a hand through his hair and picked up his trunk, shoving Brünnhilde's cage in Sirius' direction.

"Well, come on," Sirius said. He nodded towards the badge on James' chest that read _Head Boy_. "I can't wait to see Moony's face."

By the time they reached Remus, another boy had joined him. Peter Pettigrew stood shorter than the others, but the grin on his face was just as big. He'd thinned out a bit over the summer and it seemed he'd convinced his mother to give him a decent-looking haircut.

"Wormtail!" Sirius exclaimed, nearly picking the other boy up with the enthusiasm of his hug.

"Hello, Sirius," he sputtered, trying to regain his breath. "James."

"How are you doing, Moony?" James asked after receiving a hug from the taller boy.

"Not as good as you, I'd think," Remus said, a wry grin on his face. "Head Boy. I don't think anyone expected that."

"What? You're not shocked?" Sirius exclaimed.

"Of course not. I had faith in our Prongs," Remus said. James bit the inside of his cheek to stop his smile. Of course Remus was surprised—but he found it more amusing to let Sirius think he wasn't.

"Have you gotten seats yet?" James asked.

"Our usual compartment, gentlemen," Remus said. The train's last compartment had been the Marauders' since the end of their first year. Each time the four of them had sat together, it had been there. The stain on the seat had come from Sirius' pumpkin juice and the lock stuck a little, which had caused Peter to panic in their third year.

"Excellent," Sirius said, taking one of Peter's bags and James' trunk. Every year, Peter had been stuck taking his mothers' carpet bags to school instead of a trunk. And if anyone dared comment on the oddity of it, Sirius would make sure they never did again. "Let's head there, Wormtail, and leave these good boys to their duties."

James rolled his eyes. "Call us 'good' again and you'll see how much pain we can cause you."

"Later Prongs." Sirius jumped up onto the train and disappeared inside with a two-fingered salute. Peter followed him, nodding to his friends.

"Congrats on Head Boy," Remus said once the other two were out of earshot. "Not what I expected, but I'm sure Dumbledore knows what he's doing."

"Yeah. My dad nearly fell out of his chair when he saw the badge. Thought it was another prank." They squeezed past a group of Second Years to board the train. "You're not upset, are you Moony?"

Remus put a hand on his arm so James would look him in eye. "I'm not. Honestly. I'm happy for you."

"Good." James nodded. "I just wish my mum was here to see it." Even though it had been months since Dorea Potter's death, James hesitated to admit to his best friends how much it had affected him.

"She'd be proud. I know it." Remus squeezed his arm. "Now come on. We need to get the good seats before the Slytherin prefects take them."

James grinned and continued to push through the train's crowded corridor. Remus followed him, his lanky form easily following in James' wake.

* * *

For the first time, Lily Evans Apparated into King's Cross. Her parents had offered to drive her, but this last time, she wanted to do it herself. She was an adult now—at least in the wizarding world. She could handle getting to school on her own. Not that her parents would have had time to take her. Petunia's upcoming wedding ate up all her mother's time and her father had to work. It was too much to ask them to come all the way into London when she could make the journey in seconds.

Platform 9¾ buzzed with excitement for the new term. Lily loved the mix of familiar and unfamiliar, muggle and magic. Both parents and students wore muggle clothes—some more skilfully than others—and pushed metal carts, but those carts were stacked with owls and spell books and cauldrons. A mother told off her son for trying to take his supply of Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks with him to school. Several young boys slouched against the brick wall, hair unkempt and black leather jackets a few sizes too big. A family levitated their children's luggage onto the train rather than lifting it like most people. A girl hugged her mother and told her little brother to work hard at his reading while she was gone.

"Lily!"

She turned just in time to catch Frances Kingsley before she knocked them both over in her excitement. The top of Frances' head barely reached Lily's chin and her arms held her waist in a death grip.

"It's so good to see you," Lily gasped, squeezing her friend in return. She pulled back and touched Frances' short, messy curls. "You cut your hair!"

"It's not very fashionable, but I was tired of dealing with it," Frances said with a shrug. "It's been ages—how was your summer?"

"Exciting." Lily held out the badge pinned to her robes so Frances could see it properly. In a gold script over scarlet read _Head Girl_.

"Oh Lily, that's wonderful!" Frances squealed, hugging Lily again.

"Group hug!" another voice called and the two girls were wrapped in long, tanned arms.

"Marlene?" Lily broke away to look her friend over. Marlene McKinnon's blonde hair flowed in loose waves past her elbows and she still wore her muggle clothes—a cotton skirt and loose, brightly-patterned blouse. To most muggles her age, she would seem ten years behind the times, belonging back in the Summer of Love halfway around the world.

Another girl joined them, coming from the barrier. Emmeline Vance strode with purpose, red-brown hair tied up in a haphazard up-do, fluttering silk scarf around her neck, enormous sunglasses and red lipstick dominating her face. Frances greeted her with a tight hug and Emmeline relaxed her careful poise to return.

Like the Marauders, these four girls hadn't seen each other much that summer. Both Frances and Marlene had been on holiday abroad and Emmeline had been working. Lily had been left at home to help with preparation for the sister's wedding she wasn't even invited to.

"Do you know who's Head Boy?" Marlene asked. A mischievous grin twisted her lips and glittered in her eyes.

"No," Lily said carefully. "I didn't see many people over the summer."

"Hmmm," Marlene said. "Well, I guess you'll find out soon enough." She picked up her trunk and began to walk towards the train.

"You can't not tell us," Emmeline objected, hurrying after her, Lily and Frances not far behind. "Not now that you've brought it up."

"I can and I will." She grinned back at her three friends. "If we want good seats we'd better get going."

Maneuvering their trunks through narrow corridors crammed with overexcited students proved more difficult as each carriage they passed was already taken. Lily felt odd towering above her fellow students. She remembered her first year vividly: her family dropping her off, her and Sev slipping around other students' elbows, sitting together, the nerves and fear mixed with sheer excitement for a heady blend of emotions.

Marlene hurried a little ahead of the others, waving back when she found an empty compartment in the middle of the third coach. Marlene and Lily—the tallest—lifted the trunks up onto the rack. Each of trunk had its owner's initials on it in shaky gold lettering; the product of their fourth year practice with script charms.

"We'll hear about your summers later, okay?" Frances said once the trunks were settled. "Lily and I need to be in the Prefects' carriage soon."

"Both of you?" Marlene asked.

Frances nodded. "I'm Lily's replacement as Seventh Year Prefect." She grinned. "Ready Lily?"

Lily straightened her robes and pulled out her compact to check her reflection. "Yeah. Just don't blow anything up, you two." She gave Marlene and Emmeline a mock-stern look.

"Damn it," Marlene said. "We were going to try to give the Marauders a run for their money."


	3. Chapter 3

The night of September 1st each year, the Great Hall gleamed its brightest. The House Elves had spent the summer cleaning the last traces of dirt and dust from between the floor's flagstones and the high rafters of the ceiling. The enchantments had been strengthened and the candles replaced. Not a trace of ash remained on the fireplace. The gouges in the tables had been repaired and the odd-colored stains scrubbed away. The golden dishes had been polished until they sparkled. It was by no means perfect—perfection would ruin Hogwarts' charm. The towering doors still creaked and not even magic could remove the last nicks on the windows from the hail storm of the year before. The stones could be washed, but the edges were still rounded with age.

In the moments before the Hall was filled with students dripping from the rain outside, the only sound was the cracking of the fireplaces and the hundreds of candles floating above the four long tables. The warm light reflected off the gold dishes, adding to the welcoming aura of good, pure magic. From the ceiling, rain fell, stopping mere feet above the uppermost candles, in constant but impossible threat of extinguishing them. The storm clouds on the ceiling above rolled with the wind that blew miles above.

With a creak inaudible over the roar of human voices, the doors opened.

Students in sopping robes poured into the hall, dripping mud and water on the spotless floors. The damp, musty smell of soggy teenagers clashed with that of candles and wood polish. Students greeted one another with loud shouts and leaping embraces. Laughter echoed in the rainy rafters.

Yet among these happy faces, four were missing. The Marauders took their time getting off the train and caught the last carriage from Hogsmeade, making them last enter the Great Hall. They walked through the wide doors, shoulder to shoulder, invincible confidence in their shoulders and strides.

For Remus Lupin, it simply meant his last year had begun. He wouldn't return to the school after year was out. His refuge at Hogwarts was quickly coming to an end.

In the doorway, Sirius waved his wand. Gold letter formed in the air: _Welcome back, Hogwarts!_

The chatter in the hall stopped. Younger students pointed at the letters in awe, nudging their friends to catch their attention. Grinning, James waved his wand and red letters appeared underneath: _Love, the Marauders_.

One person cheered, and soon the whole hall was cheering. Sirius nodded to his friends and they all took a bow. Remus straightened with a grin on his face. This might be his last year at Hogwarts, but he would always have his friends.

The four boys took their seats quickly. The rest of the students took their time, still moving around and greeting friends.

"Honestly, the Slytherins were a nightmare," James said for the fourth time. "How many times do I have to explain that Dumbledore can choose whoever he wants for Head Boy?"

"Probably a dozen more," Remus said, a grin lifting his face a little.

"Yeah, well, you don't have to keep them in line," James grumbled.

Sirius set his wand on the table. "I'd be happy to help out with that."

"I'll let you know." James looked around quickly. "And don't tell Lily I said that." Remus could see her sitting with her friends towards the front of the Hall.

"Stop worrying, Prongs," Peter said. "You'll make a fine Head Boy."

"Of course I will." He nodded, trying to sound more confident than he was.

The doors opened once more and students scrambled for their seats. Professor McGonagall looked in, then returned a moment later with a flock of frightened eleven-year-olds. The Sorting Ceremony commenced with the usual terror of the new students and the excited tension of the older ones as they silently counted which House "won" the most new members. The Marauders gave a standing ovation to each new student—none of whom was brave enough to sit down near the tall and exuberant seventh years.

After the last of the little ones hurried to a spot at the Hufflepuff table—to the sound of much more refined cheers—Professor Dumbledore stood.

"Welcome, students, new and old, to another year at Hogwarts," he said, a kind smile on his gentle, lined face. His white beard neatly combed and his pointed hat stood tall. Yet there were dark circles beneath his eyes that betrayed sleepless nights and a tremble to gnarled hands as he held them up in welcome.

"Is it just me or does he look like he could use a good dose of pepper-up potion?" Sirius asked. He kept his whisper light enough not to alarm the third years next to them, but his eyes betrayed genuine worry. Peter nodded, looking around at his friends to see if they agreed with him.

"Shut it," James hissed. "I'm trying to listen."

Remus snickered at Sirius' pouting scowl. He wasn't used to being ignored by his best mate. Despite their whispers, Dumbledore continued his speech.

"…as in _all_ previous years, the Forbidden Forest is strictly forbidden to all students, as the name _ought_ to suggest…"

Remus laughed softly at the Headmaster's wry humor. Not that he had the slightest intention of following that particular rule—neither did any of his friends. The lure of their monthly adventures was too strong, especially after the months without them, most recently due to the summer holidays. But even before that, Sirius' misguided "prank" and James' melancholy had put a halt to their outings.

"It's the same speech every year, Prongs," Sirius complained. "What do you need to listen for—ow!" He bit his lip and rubbed at his leg where James' had hit him with a Stinging Spell. "That was unnecessary!"

James' eyes sparkled but did not waver from the high table.

"…and spells are not to be used for the harm of other students…" Dumbledore's eyes sparkled in the Marauders' direction, but gave no other indication he had amended his speech. Remus nudged Sirius with his elbow, earning another frown.

"…have babbled far too long when you still have empty stomachs and classmates to converse with," Dumbledore said. "So please, enjoy!"

He clapped his hands and the tables were suddenly full of serving dishes all piled high with all sorts of delicious food. Steam floated up along with delicious smells enough to make the head of any student light—especially that of those who had only eaten candy on the train and nothing else since a breakfast hours and miles away.

Like any boys their age, the Marauders piled food on their plates until it was about to slide off on to the table.

"So was Evans surprised to see you as Head Boy?" Peter asked. Remus snorted into his mashed potatoes.

"Surprised is a bit of an understatement," James said. "But she took it well, considering."

"She didn't hex you?" Sirius asked, his mouth full of glazed carrots.

"Those days are long passed. She hasn't hexed me in years."

"Even then, only when you deserved it," Remus said. He shrugged defensively when the others glared at him. "What? You were an ass. Now you're less of one."

James laughed and the tension left Sirius' shoulders. Even though their disagreement over Sirius' new place still lay open between them, they were brothers. Even at the slightest provocation Sirius' hackles would rise, ready to protect his best friend.

Remus' attention was drawn away once again to look down the table. No matter how merry the night might be, he couldn't shake the cold dread in his chest: this was his last year. This was his last welcome feast. His last Sorting Ceremony. And every day would be a last until the year ended.

"Say Prongs, what were you about to tell us on the train?" Sirius asked. There had only been a few minutes between Remus and James' return to their carriage and when they arrived in the station.

Peter perked up and Remus turned back to the group, the conversation pulling him from his dark musings.

"I'll tell you later in the dorm." James' voice was curt. He took another bite of his sweet potato, his entire focus upon it.

"Or," Sirius drawled, "you could relieve my boredom and curiosity and tell us now."

"Later."

"Is it a secret—quit it!" Sirius rubbed at his hand this time and James replaced his wand in his robe. He waited until the heads of the students around them turned away before hissing, "What did Dumbledore say about harm to other students?"

"Since when have we paid attention to the rules?" Peter asked.

Sirius scowled. "There ought to be a rule about harm to fellow Marauders."

"There is," Remus said calmly. "But it's restricted to pranks and serious injury. Stinging Spells are in neither category." Peter hid his grin in a gulp of pumpkin juice.

Sirius only muttered something about what else might count as an exception to the rule and how he would use it on James. But when dessert appeared, he swiped an extra eclair for James all the same.

* * *

"Gentlemen, welcome home," Sirius announced as they threw open the doors to their dorm. It looked the same as ever—crimson hangings on elegant four-poster beds, their belongings set out around them, waiting to be set up again in their customary places. The only difference was that, like the Great Hall, it was significantly cleaner than they had left it last term. The floorboards were visible and the dirt had been scoured from the gashes in the windowsill, the origin of which is a long story for another time.

Peter flopped down on his bed. After several months at his mother's decaying house, the mattress was the softest, most wonderful thing in the world. James sat on the edge of his, spinning his wand in his hand as he tried to remember the incantation he wanted.

Sirius leapt towards his things and began to rummage through his trunk, spreading the contents out haphazardly across the floor.

"Just get it off the floor before morning, Padfoot," Remus said, leaning against his bedpost with his arms crossed, eying the formation of chaos with a disdainful eye. "I'd rather not trip on my way to the shower."

Sirius only continued to empty his trunk across the room. James and Remus each proceed to unpack in a more orderly fashion, James from his bed with flicks of his wand. Remus shoved his shabby clothes into the wardrobe without any discernible method.

"You know, Padfoot," James said. "You had a point. Dumbledore didn't look well at all."

"Do you think he's ill?" Peter asked.

"I doubt there anything Madame Pomfrey can't cure." Remus said. "Well, there's almost nothing."

"Like vampirism," Sirius said excitedly, turning from out-turning his trunk for a moment.

James rolled his eyes. "Professor Dumbledore isn't a vampire, Sirius. And I'm not joking. He really looked like something was wrong with him."

"He looked tired," Remus said heavily. "I suppose things must be pretty bad if they're getting to him."

"How bad can they be?" Peter asked, lying on his back and staring at the canopy of his bed. "There's nothing in the papers—"

"Of course there's nothing the papers, Wormtail," Sirius snapped. He threw another shirt across the room with more force than usual, venting his frustration on it. "Do you think families like mine won't pay pounds of galleons to keep it all hushed up? That doesn't mean it's not happening."

"Neither does it mean the worst," James said quietly. "There comes a point where not even _The Prophet_ can hush things up."

Sirius gave a scoffing laugh. "You have too much faith, Prongs. That was always your problem."

Other than a sigh, James kept silent. There was no use prolonging the argument. He hated the wall between him and Sirius. And it wasn't just Dorea's death—though that may have sparked much of it—but there was also conversations they hadn't bothered to have. Each boy knew he ought to say something. Even an apology would make a world of difference. But then pride slipped between them and heartfelt words died on the tongue.

"Well, if there's one thing we can be certain of," Remus said, "it's that Dumbledore has a plan. No matter how bad it gets, he'll have a plan."

"Amen to that," Sirius said. He was bent into his trunk up to his shoulders and his voice echoed slightly on its way out into the room.

"Amen," James echoed. Remus noted the weariness on James' face. But he knew better than to bring it up now. The mood wasn't right to have a discussion of feelings. Not that it ever really was in their room.

A shirt of questionable cleanliness flew from Sirius' direction and landed on Peter. He sat up with a sputter and chucked it back across the room.

"Bloody hell, Sirius," he said. "How much stuff can you fit in that trunk?" He had a point. The floor was barely visible underneath piles and piles of clothes and books.

"Undetectable Extension Charm," Sirius shouted from where nearly his whole torso had disappeared into the trunk. Remus got up from where he was stuffing the last of his books onto the overfilled shelf and cross to inspect Sirius' trunk.

"That's awfully complicated magic," he said, poking at it with his wand. "How many tries did it take to get it right?"

"More than I'd care to admit," Sirius said. His voice still echoed. The muscles of his back were tight and straining. He seemed to be lifting something from the depths of it.

"Did it explode on you?" James asked.

"Shut it."

"You know a Summoning Charm would be easier," Remus said, kicking at the trunk. It made a loud hollow sound. Sirius yelped.

"Don't _do_ that. And not in this… case… almost… got it." With a final heave, he fell back, bringing with him a large wooden box with a tinted plastic top. Sirius set it down gently on the floor and then dived back into the trunk, coming back up a moment later with a stack of brightly colored paper sleeves.

"What is that?" James asked, sliding off his bed and coming to examine the curiosity.

"That—" Sirius slapped James' hand away "—is a record player." At James' confused look, he grinned. "It's a muggle machine. It plays music."

"How did you get one?" Peter asked, a look of awe on his face.

"I had some money left over from Uncle Alphard after I bought the flat. So I decided to get something fun." He sorted through the records, looking for one to play.

"It won't work, you know," Remus said. "Electricity doesn't work at Hogwarts."

"Good thing I've enchanted it then," Sirius said. "It doesn't need electricity. Runs on pure magic." He pulled a record from its sleeve and opened the plastic cover to set it in. Carefully, he placed the needle on it and hit a button on the side.

And the room was full of the grand overture of electric guitars and drums, then the tinny sound of a man's voice: _Welcome to the grand illusion, come on in and see what_ _'s happening…_

James stared at it, his face lighting up as sound he'd never heard filled the room. "This… this is _brilliant_."

"Hoped you'd think so," Sirius said. "This album just came out this summer. It's brand new— _so if you think your life is complete confusion_ _…_ " He began to sing, falling back onto his bed with the force of his air guitar. Remus had a faint smile on his face and Peter was tapping out the rhythms on the end of his bed. James made his things float around the room to the beat of the music. Though he seemed organized for the moment, no one was under any impression that he would remain that way for more than a day. Soon enough his things would be in a disarray that only he could understand.

The song came to an end and Remus turned the volume down to a less ear-splitting level. Sirius sat up with is sound of protest. "What did you do that for?"

"I thought you wanted to hear what Prongs was going to tell us on the train."

"Yes, I did." Sirius leapt up and grabbed James, forcing him to sit on his bed while the other three gathered around him. "Well, what is it, Prongs? Are you getting married?"

"What—no!" James whacked the side of Sirius' head. "I have an idea. Rather, a proposition for you gentlemen." He summoned a book from his shelf and sat up straighter, assuming a more formal tone. "You see, with the exception of our dear Moony, none of us made particularly good marks last term. There are reasons for that, I know, but I have come up with an idea that will help keep that situation from repeating itself."

"I'd rather think that this term is quite different than last," Peter pointed out.

"Yes, but it's not just that. This is our last year at Hogwarts. The end of our education. Already have the Marauders won fame as the best pranksters Hogwarts has ever had—" Sirius let out a cheer and high-fived Peter. "—but now we have our final chance to extend that fame into tales of our brilliance as well."

"This is all well and good, but I can't see how the goal of good marks is anything new," Remus said. Once again his arms were crossed as he leaned against a bedpost. His black robes nearly gave him the impression of a disdainful judge, though the effect was somewhat ruined by his shaggy, ill-cut hair.

"I haven't finished," James said. He stood up on the bed as if a king addressing his subjects. "Gentlemen, I propose an oath, to be sworn upon each man's honor as a Marauder. And the oath is this: for the duration of this year, we will devote ourselves completely to our studies. We will take part in no frivolity beyond what is expected of us. And we will keep ourselves from distractions—mostly meaning the company of ladies, but also excess in food and sleep and the slacking off of classwork and homework. This is our last year, gentlemen. Let us make the most of it."

He opened the book on his lap and took from it a piece of parchment. "Here is the oath. I have signed, I beg you to join me."

Peter reached for the parchment, but James kept it from him, holding it high above his reach.

"Not so fast, Wormtail. I will not ask you to make such a decision so quickly." James jumped down from the bed and pinned the parchment to the wall. "I give you one week, gentlemen. Consider the terms carefully. Seven nights from tonight we will reconvene this meeting."

The other three looked at the parchment on the wall for a moment before Sirius applauded.

"Well said," Sirius said. "Now I must be off to bed. Sleeping until noon sadly is not an option." He headed towards his bed, stripping as he went.

"Padfoot," Remus called. The other turned, shirt half off and looking confused. "The mess. Pick it up. If I trip over anything in the morning I'll Vanish the lot of it."


	4. Chapter 4

While the Marauders recommenced the year with formal speeches and music, across the tower from them, the girls' reconvening began in the morning. First to wake was Emmeline, soon followed by Frances. Soon the tiny bathroom was once again full of steam and the sweet scents of various soaps. Lily followed a while later. She slept later, but somehow managed to wake refreshed more often than not. She seemed to be animated by a natural energy or curiosity for what the day might hold.

Last to wake was Marlene, as always. She rolled out of bed, dragging her duvet with her and dropping it in the doorway of the bathroom as she made her way to the shower by memory, eyes shut tight against the offensive light. The white tiles glistened and two large mirrors occupied the wall above and beside the sinks. The slanted rafters of the tower were painted white to brighten the room and there was a small window through which came a cool breeze. Crimson towels hung near the shower. The air was heavy with sweet-smelling steam, though the mirrors were enchanted so they would not fog over. Each girl had a sink and a shelf for their cosmetics. At various places, small cups were attached to the wall for the purpose of protecting wands from any water or soap that might slosh onto the counters or floors.

"What do you think of the new first years?" Frances asked, ignoring Marlene's irritated groan at the sound.

"They seem far to energetic for me," Emmeline said. "Honestly. We were not that small and did not talk that fast."

"Then your memory is faulty, Emmy dear," Lily said, kissing her cheek on the way past to the mirror. "Your calm came with maturity." She bent over to dry her hair with a towel. Her space was neat and full of bottles that when opened smelt of citrus.

"Don't tease, Lily," Frances said from where she used her wand to uncurl her hair into waves. "I think the first years are sweet."

"Just make sure someone remembers to warn them about the Marauders," Emmeline said, darkly. She leaned over the sink, carefully lining her eyes in dark brown. She had a soft, but elegant quality to her. If she'd had the blood to get into Slytherin, she could easily have passed as a pure heiress.

"Oh they're not that bad," Frances said. "And they don't hurt the firsties—especially not fellow Gryffindors."

"Not that," Emmeline said with a laugh. "Someone should tell them that they're not really as attractive as they seem at first glance. Honestly, if I have to hear Karen say one more time that six years isn't that much of an age gap I might retch."

"Someone open the door!" Marlene called. Lily rolled her eyes, but did so just in time for Marlene's clothes to fly in from her dresser. It was another custom: Marlene never brought her things into the bathroom with her. She instead summoned them once she was finished in the shower. But neither did she seem to have any mental capacity before the shower with which to fetch the clothes.

"They're not that unattractive," Frances said, a little shyly, then quickly turned to check that her hair was parted evenly.

"You're not sweet on someone, are you Frances?" Lily asked coming up behind the other girl. She clasped her shoulders and met the reflection of her eyes in the mirror. "Is it a Marauder?"

A rosy blush spread over Frances' cheek- and collar-bones, giving her answer away before she could deny it. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, Marlene came over, barely covered by a towel she was only half-bothering to hold up.

"Who might it be, Frances darling?" she purred, taking a place beside Lily. "Is it James Potter?"

Frances shook her head quickly. Her blush was spreading. She bit the insides of her cheeks, trying to keep the true answer off her face.

"Sirius Black?"

She frowned and shook her head. "Definitely not."

Marlene leaned in farther. "What's wrong with Sirius Black?" she whispered in her ear. Frances pushed her away.

"Is it Remus?" Lily asked. "He's nice."

"No…" Frances swallowed.

"Peter then?" Marlene prompted, her grin growing wider.

"Ye—yes," Frances stammered finally, turning scarlet. Lily grinned. If anyone would be good for Frances, it was mild-mannered Peter. "We talked over the summer—he lives near me and a mutual friend got married. We danced at the reception."

"So he can dance?" Lily asked with a grin.

"He can _talk_?" Emmeline scoffed, leaning in towards the mirror to apply her light makeup.

"Don't be that way," Frances said. "He's shy, but he actually speaks very well when he's not overshadowed by everyone. Actually, he was quite witty. I suppose he just doesn't often share his humor. And he's really quite sweet."

Lily moved away and sat on the counter. "What about the rest of you? Any beaus we ought to know of? Emmeline?"

"If there was, I doubt I'd tell you," she said with a smirk. Marlene came up beside her.

"I wouldn't be so sure of that, darling. After all, I'm very persistent." She held up a bottle of her perfume. "And I doubt you want to smell like this all day." Emmeline made a face. Marlene was known for her strong, spicy perfume—nothing like the soft fragrances Emmeline preferred.

"Well," Emmeline said with a poised frown. "I'll let you guess."

"Very well—describe him to us," Frances said, leaning against the counter next to where Lily sat.

Emmeline's eyes glittered as she spoke towards the mirror, though not seeing it, but rather him in her mind's eye. "He's very smart. Top in many of his classes. Even if he were ugly, his intelligence would make up for it—though he's far enough from ugly. I'd even say he's attractive enough to make up for any the lack of intelligence he doesn't have."

"The best of both worlds, then," Marlene said.

"And neither of those mention his kindness," Emmeline continued. "Or any of his other qualities… what do you think? Do you have a guess?"

"Is it Sirius?" Marlene asked.

"No—though I'd beg to know why that's always your guess."

"Is he a Gryffindor?" Lily asked. "Our year?"

Emmeline nodded, still staring past the mirror into her thoughts. Lily and Frances exchanged a look, considering.

"I've got it," Lily said. "It's Remus Lupin."

"Lucky guess," Emmeline said coolly, her constant composure keeping even the slightest blush from her face. "But yes. It's Remus."

"He's nice looking in his own way, I suppose," Marlene said. "If you like bad haircuts and ragged sweaters—and I wouldn't think that's your type, Emmy."

"It's not that—he's got this grace about him," Emmeline said. "It's the way he moves. And haircuts and sweaters aren't permanent."

"And he really he kind," Lily added. "He's always more than willing to help with Prefect duties. Anyways, Marlene, Emmeline had a point: what's with the mentions of one Sirius Black?"

"Perhaps I can see how a girl might fancy him." With a shrug Marlene began add a cloying scent to her hair while gently curling the short locks with her wand.

"Which means you fancy him," Emmeline stated with a smile pulling at the corners of her lips.

"I never said that."

"All but," Frances said. "What's his best point?"

"He's hot," Marlene said bluntly. If anything she was not gifted with a delicate tongue. "And I find him amusing. And yes, I know you disapprove of his antics, Lily, but I think they're funny."

"I don't completely disapprove," Lily said. "I'd just rather they weren't destructive. Someone has to clean up their messes. And that often falls to prefects."

"As one of them, you'd think Remus would have more sense," Frances said.

"You would think," Marlene echoed.

"So all of my friends have come back from the summer in love?" Lily asked with a grin. "Well, this will make for an interesting year indeed." She slid off the counter. "Now I must get dressed, but thank you for the entertainment ladies."

"Wait," Frances called. Lily paused in the doorway. "Do you not have a sweetheart?"

"Me? No." Lily shrugged. "I just haven't found the right one yet." She waved at the others.

Marlene looked to the other two with a smirk.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Emmeline demanded.

"Nothing," Marlene said innocently. "I just think someone's a little blind. That's all."

* * *

The first day of a new school year generally holds a universal feeling of excitement. It's new and fresh. Everyone has had a few months away that are enough to make the familiarity of school feel nostalgic and comforting rather than boring. For the younger students, this feeling may last for the first few months or weeks before finally dying into the monotony of classwork and custom.

For the Seventh Years, the feeling lasts about one day.

By the afternoon of the second day, Sirius had already passed three notes complaining that Professor Flitwick had been more interesting the day before. Remus ignored this as usual. James turned back to grin at his best friend before returning to notes that mostly consisted of theoretical Quidditch formations. (After all, Sirius did have a point: lectures were not nearly as interesting as practical lessons.) Peter had read his note a dozen times and drawn all over it, missing the last ten minutes of the lecture completely. After realizing so, he passed a note to James:

_Your proposition is looking more and more necessary. This term is going to be harder than I thought._

James read the note quickly, then pocketed it with a small smile and nod to Peter. Neither Remus or Sirius noticed—the former due to his attention and the latter because he was now doodling on a bit of spare parchment the image of a dragon chasing a grindylow. At least, that's what he thought it looked like.

But the disinterest was not limited to the Marauders. Frances and Marlene were playing tic-tac-toe in the margins of Frances' notes. Emmeline was half listening, half staring at Remus' hand as it moved across his parchment. And who could blame her? He was right in her line of sight. And she certainly wasn't going to stare at Flitwick like that.

As for Lily, she was reading that night's homework and trying to ignore how her watch ticked quietly on her wrist, each motion marking the loss of a second between the present and the end of class. Of all the students in the room, Lily least wanted the class to end. For once it ended, there would be even less time before what she dreaded: her first proper meeting with the Head Boy.

It had been an absolute shock for her to see him on the train, badge pinned neatly to his robes. Of all people, she had not expected him to win the position. At first, she'd thought it was a prank. Of course, James Potter was no longer the ass he'd been years before. He didn't hex Sev as much—and now Lily could see that he only gave as much as he got. After having a few days to think about it, she actually thought James might be able to pull off being Head Boy. Still, that did not quell her nerves about the whole situation. And as far as she knew, he still thought she hated him.

Of course, when you don't wish for time to move, that's exactly what it does. Lily found the class to be passing quickly, while her classmates found it to be unendurably slow. (This oddity of time's passing was rumored to be studied in the Department of Mysteries, but of course no rumors of that sort could be confirmed.)

For once, James was early to a meeting. Meaning that he arrived before Lily did. He was technically a minute late and it had not been more only because he'd come straight from Muggle Studies without any detours—well, not a very long one.

They were meeting in an empty classroom. The only furniture was only a heavy desk at the front of the room. Behind it was a chalkboard with all the usual messages that had never been wiped away— _Sam was here_ , stick figures, the like.

James took the cloth napkin from his bag and laid it out on the table, checking carefully to make sure none of the cookies were broken and the miniature muffins unsquashed—one was, but he ate it to erase it from existence. There was also and apple and a dinner knife to cut it with, as well as a flagon of pumpkin juice. The House Elves in the kitchens were as generous as always. Once it looked decently laid out to his judgment, he sat on the desk beside the food and began to slice the apple.

Lily hurried in a few minutes later. Her hair was falling from its ponytail and she seemed to have run all the way. She still wore her robes—she often changed into muggle clothes in the evenings.

"I'm so sorry," she said. "I fell asleep in the common room…" At the sight of the food, she trailed off. "You brought this?"

"Food can improve any meeting in my opinion." He held out a slice of the apple. "Want some?"

"Okay." Lily took a piece gingerly, unsure what was happening. This is not what she'd expected. Not that she'd had a specific expectation, but if she'd had one, this would not have even been close to it.

"Take anything here," he said, gesturing to the napkin. "And as there's a lack of chairs, may I offer you the other side of this desk?"

"Absolutely." She jumped up and grabbed a muffin. "Did you get this from the kitchens?"

James looked rather impressed. "Yes. I wasn't aware you knew that was possible."

"I know a lot of things." Lily laughed. "You think I'm so innocent, Potter."

"I wouldn't say innocent. Just inexperienced with rule-breaking."

Lily grinned, kicking her heels against the desk. The wood was thick and the sound was only a dull thump. "Shows how much you know."

"So it seems." He finished chewing a cookie and then clapped his hands. "Do we have things to discuss or is this meeting a mere formality?"

"We have things to discuss." Lily summoned her bag and pulled from it a piece of parchment. "This," she said, handing it to James, "is a list of our duties for the year. We're supposed to divide up the menial things and decide what to do about the rest."

"Then let's get down to it."

The next hour was spent in earnest discussion, punctuated by humor and silliness. By the time they were finished, the food was gone. They parted with a firm handshake—the formality of it reduced both of them to giggles and they settled for a friendly hug instead.

James, for his part, felt much better about the whole situation. Having never been a Prefect or taken much interest in Remus' position as such, he had known nothing about the position he'd been awarded. It turned out that Lily was very willing to forgive and remedy his ignorance and she seemed to trust him to do his part. He hadn't expected it to be so, but it had been fun. He'd enjoyed coming up with ideas for events and systems for the prefect meetings and choosing dates for Hogsmeade visits. It was different than anything he'd ever done before—not too difficult, but also challenging in new ways.

Lily could only leave with a sense of relief. She'd been so worried. After all, she and James didn't know each other particularly well. There was no way to tell if he'd truly matured from the little boy she'd been better acquainted with. He had more than exceeded her expectations. He was very capable as Head Boy, but more than that. He was funny and kind—he brought food, that was certainly a point in his favor.

Each left with a kinder opinion than the one with which they came, thinking that perhaps this year wouldn't be so difficult after all.

* * *

It didn't take much longer for the Gryffindor Seventh Years to be swamped with work. With their N.E.W.T.s at the end of the year, all of their professors were anxious to cover as much material as possible in the little time left to them.

The end of the week found them gathered around the Common Room fire late into the evening. Lily and Marlene were stretched out over the couch, books on their laps. Frances sat on the floor, her back against Remus' armchair. Sirius and James lay on their stomachs on the floor, Sirius closer to the fire, soaking up the heat like a dog on a sunny patch of carpet. Peter and Emmeline sat on opposites of the neighboring couch. He traced the lines of his book with his finger as he muttered to himself and her fingers were ink stained from the essay that had half rolled down her legs onto the rug.

It was unusual for the Marauders to study alongside the girls, but the complicated classwork had demanded it. Each had their own strength and ability to help the others. Sitting as a group was nearly a necessity.

"This is ridiculous," Sirius grumbled as he used his wand to erase the last paragraph he'd written.

"Need help?" James asked. Sirius shook his head and motioned to his Potions book—not James' best subject.

"I'm starting to think your idea might not be half awful," he whispered.

"Really?" James was surprised. Sirius nodded.

"I'd go sign your bloody paper now if I thought it would help get through this pile of work. It's monstrous. How can they think we have time for all this?" He lay his head down on his essay and groaned. When he brought it back up, there were ink marks in the faint shape of letters on his forehead.

"What are you two whispering about?" Marlene asked.

"Marauder stuff," James answered. "As in, none of your business."

Marlene gave an affronted scoff. "Well if you must be that way, Lily and I will go upstairs. Then who will help you with Potions?"

Sirius and James looked expectantly at Remus, who shook his head quickly. He hadn't understood nearly enough of the lesson to teach it to them.

"Our apologies," Sirius said. He gave Marlene a gallant nod—something not many others could pull off convincingly.

"How long have we been here?" Frances asked.

"Too long," Emmeline said. "I'm exhausted."

"You could go to sleep," Remus offered.

"Then I wouldn't get my essay done and it's due tomorrow."

Sirius rolled over onto his back and pressed his hand over his eyes. "I feel your pain," he groaned.

"Sirius?" Lily asked.

He uncovered one eye. "What?"

"When did you get your ears pierced?"

Sure enough, he wore a small gold stud in each ear, visible now only because his long hair had fallen back off his face when he rolled over. He recovered his eye.

"This summer. I was bored. Thought it would annoy my brother if he noticed when I got to school."

"Your brother?" Emmeline asked.

Sirius ignored her.

"His name's Regulus. He's in Slytherin a year behind us," Remus explained tersely. "Sirius doesn't like to mention him."

"False!" Sirius shouted, sitting up suddenly and pointing at Remus. "I did mention him not a minute ago."

Remus didn't respond, not wanting the argument Sirius was hoping to start. He needed to figure out this Potions assignment if he was going to have any hope in class the next day. Once it was clear there would be no further entertaining conversation, everyone returned to their work. James made a second tally on the corner of his copy of _A Standard Book of Spells, Grade 7_.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter quotes a bit from Love's Labour's Lost, Act I, scene i, around line 80.

As a rule, Remus was the first in and out of the shower in the morning. James was up next, while Sirius and Peter slept as long as they possibly could.

The morning was a chill one. It was always colder at Hogwarts than it was at home. Though the temperature itself was not truly very low, there was a sense of crisp expectancy in the air. A waiting for the sun's warmth that filled the air and seeped past walls and windows into the air indoors. It was the sort of air that wakes you gently and told the remnants of your dreams that today will be a fine one.

Remus passed James on his way to the shower. They nodded in greeting to one another, but Remus stopped James with a hand on his arm. "I think your idea is a good one," he said. "Maybe a little too strict, but I think the severity might be good for us."

"Thanks, mate," James said with a nod.

Already showered, James sat in his bed with the curtains back, writing and essay and from time to time throwing wads of paper at Sirius' hangings. He managed to get one through the crack between them just as the sound of running water in the bathroom stopped. He congratulated himself silently on the excellent shot, then erupted with laughter at the angry shout from within.

The curtains flew open and the wad of paper came flying back at him. James dodged it easy, still laughing.

"I suppose you think you're funny," Sirius grumbled. "Is Moony done with the shower yet?"

"Yes," Remus said, emerging from the bathroom shirtless and with dripping hair, a pair of sweatpants riding low on his too-bony hips. "It's all yours Padfoot." He looked around. "Is Wormtail still asleep?"

James shrugged. Remus nodded and headed over to his wardrobe for some proper clothes. He stopped short and turned when Sirius let out a gasp.

"What?" He looked around, alarmed. "What's wrong?"

"Turn around." There was a hint of awe in Sirius' voice. Realization dawning on him, Remus turned back around as James got up to see what the big deal was.

On his thin, but tightly muscled back, over the scars that marred him, Remus Lupin had gotten a tattoo.

It was a griffin, its wings outstretched and extended down the backs of his upper arms. Its body stood proudly between Remus' shoulder blades, looking straight out with a piercing eye. Its beak was needle sharp and the tiny feathers on its neck and back as detailed as the larger ones of its wings. Its lion's body was seated in the small of Remus' back, the tail gently swishing round Remus' side. It had an air of regal pride, but also of a solemn strength. Its very attitude was evident in the placement of each drop of ink in Remus' skin. It had seen pain and survived.

"Woah," James said. "When did this happen?"

Remus rolled his shoulders and reached into the wardrobe for a t-shirt. The griffin rippled with his movement. "Earlier this summer. I had some spending money from my job and wanted to get something special."

"Does it stay through the transformation?" Sirius asked as Remus pulled the shirt over his head. The ink was still somewhat visible through the thin white fabric and the tips of the wings stuck out past the sleeves.

"I don't know," Remus said, a wry grin coming to his face. "I suppose you'll have to tell me."

* * *

"It has been one week since I originally approached you, gentlemen," James said that evening. This time he stood on a chair in the center of the room. The other three lounged around him, listening with all the attention a fellow Marauder deserved (that is more than a teacher and less than a girlfriend). "You have had that time to consider carefully the terms of my proposition. And I believe that you have each reached a decision."

He jumped down and, instead of grabbing the parchment at his feet, he picked up _A Standard Book of Spells_. He clambered back up onto the chair and held it above his head, open to the page of that week's lesson. He pointed to the three small tally marks in the top corner.

"This, my friends, is proof. You have each, privately, expressed to me your approval for my proposal. Well, the time has come. I ask each of you to sign your name below mine." He nearly dropped the book as he tried to hold it and also point to the parchment on the floor. "You have already given me your spoken agreement, now make it final. Let this oath be honored as solemn and upon your honor if it is broken."

Remus, Sirius, and Peter looked at one another, each waiting for one of the others to go first. After a moment of indecision, Peter stood.

"I have made up my mind," he said, coming forward and taking the parchment. "It's only a year and I could use all the help I can get." He signed his name in his thin, wobbly handwriting beneath James' illegible scrawl.

"I am agreed as well," Remus said. His signature joined the others'—a neat half-cursive. "It is a worthy goal with noble terms." He held out the parchment to Sirius, who took it gingerly and looked it over a moment.

"Well, Padfoot?" James asked.

"I too am in agreement with the idea of a year devoted to study," Sirius said carefully. "But it is these other, stricter terms that bother me. Like, for instance, this rule about girls. Are we truly not to interact with them at all outside of what is required for class? And it says here—are we truly not to eat more than the minimum necessary and sleep no more than that as well? These terms are too difficult. They will make our lives a barren hell!" He finished dramatically, throwing up his arms. The parchment soared across the room and landed lightly on Peter's bed.

"You already said you thought it would a be a good idea. You already agreed."

"That we ought to study, yes! But not all the rest of this. Please, allow me to study with you lot. Just excuse me from the rest of the terms."

"You promised the whole thing, Padfoot," Peter said. He crossed his arms and glanced at Remus and James to make sure they were supporting him on this.

"It was a joke!" Sirius protested. "I didn't really mean it."

"You said it nonetheless," Remus said.

"Anyways, what is the point of studying so hard?" Sirius asked. "So what if we spend the year studying? Then what? In case you haven't noticed, the world's going to hell in a hand basket. We'll get all this studying and then what? Go to hell ourselves?"

"There's no need for cynicism." James' voice had turned dark, warning. Though Sirius spoke only the truth, it was not one James wished to dwell on.

"And the point of learning is to give us a chance of avoiding this hell you speak of," Remus said. "And if you must bring it up, you'll be more likely to avoid Hell with the strict rules of this oath than without."

Sirius scoffed. "What is the point of working hard if not to impress girls? Why study if I'll just starve to death in the endeavor? These terms are too much. All I want is assurance that my efforts will not be wasted." He stood up on the foot of his bed, leaning dangerously forward to avoid hitting his head on the curtain rod. "As the great muggle Poet said, why, all delights are vain, and that most vain: as to painfully pour upon a book in order to seek light of truth. But while, truth doth falsely blind his look's eyesight. Light seeking light doth beguile itself. Instead, let me study how to please the eye indeed by fixing it upon a fairer eye—you see, gentlemen, we cannot truly study if we are denied part of life that might influence it."

"So you are reasoning against learning with learning?" James asked, amused.

"Proceeded well to stop all good proceeding," Remus quoted softly. "Padfoot, you're making no sense."

"I'm making much more sense than you. Even a hinkypunk can outsmart a doorknob."

Peter looked around to see if anyone else understood. "What?"

"He's spouting nonsense again," James said. He picked up the parchment and brought it over to where Padfoot stood. His shoulders were tense, but he spoke calmly and with authority. "Look, Padfoot. It's all or nothing. Either accept the terms or leave them. If you only do part, you'll bring us all down. Either join us or leave"

Sirius jumped down. Standing inches from James' chest, they were eye to eye. "I swore I'd stay with you," he said quietly. "All those years ago, I swore. That hasn't changed. Give me the paper. I'll sign even the strictest of decrees."

James gave a slow nod, but didn't move. His breaths came deeply, yet with a small shudder to them. The lines of tension that had been strung between them, pushing them apart like magnets of the same type, now seemed to loosen. Sirius nodded in return, affirming that this oath was more than simply to study. It was an oath of brotherhood. In a way, an apology for every day since the one in the mint green waiting room of St. Mungo's.

Reaching forward, Sirius took the parchment from James' hand. He Summoned a quill and signed his name in elegant, spiky handwriting.

"There," he said. "We are all under oath. And I'll add: though I am the most hesitant, I am the last that last will keep his oath."

Peter sent up sparks from his wand in celebration. Sirius, however, didn't seem so overjoyed. Instead, he studied the parchment. " _…shall not meet with a girl alone or else he shall be forced to eat cockroach cluster_ —Prongs, are you sure you've thought this punishment through?"

"Yes—why?" James grabbed the parchment. "What's wrong?"

"Only that you'll be eating your weight in cockroach cluster this year," Sirius said, laughing.

"What? Why?"

"You're Head Boy, mate. Don't you have weekly meetings with Lily Evans—the Head _Girl_?" Sirius watched James with a grin until the connection hit him.

"That…" He nodded. "That is a problem."

"No kidding."

"Could we add an exception?" Remus asked. "Amend the terms?"

James shook his head. "It's already magically sealed. It can't be changed after it's been signed."

Alarm shot through Remus' face. "You didn't make it an Unbreakable Vow, did you?"

"No—no!" James said. "Nothing that strong. I just made it a real contract. So it's magically binding, that's all. The only way to avoid ramifications is to either fulfill the contract or rip it up with the consent of all four of us."

"And we can't rip it up and rewrite it?" Peter asked.

"Unfortunately no," Remus said. "Contracts don't work that way. Magic isn't like a television set—it's smarter than that."

"So what am I supposed to do?" James demanded. "I can't very well have a chaperon during my meetings with Lily."

"No, you can't," Remus said. He sat down on the nearest bed, thinking. "Would it count under the necessity of assigned duties clause? I mean, if you were assigned to be with her for the meetings, the contract would accept that, right?"

"It should. But who would assign such a thing?"

"Get Lily to do it," Peter suggested. "She has the authority to as Head Girl."

"But that would involve telling her," James said. Sirius looked at him as if he'd grown another head.

"What, is this a big secret? She'll find out about it one way or another."

"I suppose." James nodded. "I'll tell her tomorrow after class."

"Are you sure that counts?" Peter asked. "After all, it's specifically meant to keep us from romantic feelings, right?"

"Oh right," Sirius said, a playful grin coming to his face. "It doesn't count if you fancy her, Prongs."

James rolled his eyes. "Don't be ridiculous. I haven't fancied Lily since fifth year. We barely know each other anymore."

"If you're sure…" Sirius said, a note of teasing still in his voice.

"I'm quite sure." He pinned the parchment to the wall once more. "Thus, gentlemen, concludes our meeting."

Sirius cheered and dove under his bed, pulling out several bottles of butterbeer. "A celebration? Or a toast to our future studies? If we're truly not to have excess food, then this has to go somewhere."

The butterbeers were passed around and Sirius held his up. "To our studies."

"And friendship," James said.

"To lack of distractions," Remus said, coming to join them.

Peter joined them and added: "And to the futures before us."

In one motion they threw back their heads and drank. The sweet, cool liquid warmed them through and through, sealing their promises.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The songs in this chapter are “Blues Run the Game” by Simon & Garfunkel, “Hey Jude” by The Beatles, and “I Am a Rock” by Simon & Garfunkel.

After an oath is taken, it seems like there ought to be a fork in the road. You know the feeling: you wake up the next morning and feel like something ought to have shifted overnight. For truly, something has in your mind. Yet as you go about your routine that is still much the same as the day before, it feels wrong. As if not only one thing can change.

The next morning felt much the same for the Marauders. Remus showered first and no longer bothered to even try to conceal his griffin tattoo. Sirius was a pain in the ass to haul out of bed. James attempted to run a comb through his hair but soon gave up and pulled a shirt over his head, only making the problem worse. Peter tried to finish his reading while getting dressed which mostly ended up with zero comprehension and poor fashion sense.

Around them, life at Hogwarts continued. Students headed to breakfast, chatting about the usual mundane topics and rehearsing the previous day's gossip. The post arrived by owl and at least one person's mail landed in their coffee. (Nothing a simple spell couldn't fix, but there was still a sense of disappointment that came with inky coffee and an envelope with coffee grounds on the bottom.)

"So do we just continue as usual?" Peter asked through his piece of toast.

"Pretty much," James said. "Except—"

"We pretend we're boring professor types like Moony," Sirius interrupted, earning him a swat over the head with Remus' copy of _The Daily Prophet_.

"—we are more focused on our work and less on other things," James said, unable to keep his amusement at Sirius' response out of his voice.

"When are you going to tell Lily?" Remus asked. "You'd better sometime before your meeting this afternoon or else you'll be eating some cockroach cluster after dinner." He said it conversationally, like 'if you don't bring and umbrella you'll get wet' or something of that sort.

"As soon as I see her—hey Lily!" he called, nearly tripped as he struggled to get out of the bench quickly before she passed. "Lily!"

She turned at the sound of her name, surprised to see who had called it. Alarmed, she hurried back to him, concern creasing her forehead. "What is it?"

"Nothing," he said quickly, but did not turn away.

"Nothing?"

"No—not nothing—nothing bad—hold on, let me start over." He ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. "I just wanted to talk to you. About our meeting tonight."

"Right," she said, disappointment gathering in her stomach. Of course. He had to cancel. And it was only the second week. Perhaps it had been too much to expect him to last longer than that. "Do you want to do this here, or go somewhere…?"

"Go." James nodded and motioned for her to go ahead. With a glance back at his friends for their nods of encouragement, he followed her out into the Entrance Hall.

Lily stopped halfway along a somewhat disused first floor corridor. "What is it?"

"I need your help," he gasped. Briefly, and with much stumbling over his words, James outlined the basics of the Marauders' oath. "So you see, I need you to assign me to come to our meetings so that I can see you without having to eat a handful of cockroach cluster. I'm really sorry—I should have remembered to put in an exception, but then the contract was signed and sealed and there was nothing that could be done—"

Lily held up a hand to cut him off. "I understand."

"You do?"

"Yes. We'll discuss the merits of your idea later, but for now—" She drew herself up to her full height so that they were nearly eye to eye "—I hereby order you, James Potter, to meet with me once a week for the purpose of completing our duties as Head Girl and Head Boy." She nodded. "Will that do?"

"It should," he said, his whole body relaxing. "Thanks so much, Lily. You're the best." He gave her a nod and then took off running down the corridor back towards the Great Hall, leaving her standing alone.

* * *

Lily met James outside of his last class. She grabbed him by the wrist and didn't let go until they'd reached their empty classroom. She shut the door behind them with a loud bang.

"I can't believe you," she said. Her eyes seemed to spark. "An oath like that? Seriously?"

"It's for a good cause," James said.

"That doesn't mean you should make it magically binding," she cried. "Honestly, what were you thinking? Studying is fine, but there's no need for all the other shit you put in there."

James was taken aback. Not so much by her unexpected language, but that she thought his idea was no good. It had seemed the best solution to him: a way to convince his friends to study, which would in turn convince him to follow that good example. And of course, there was the disaster of last term. Between the griefs and angers stretched taught between the four of them, only Remus had managed to work. And only then out of sheer stubbornness, determination, and no small amount of well-practiced work ethic. Yet here Lily thought that the elimination of distraction was unnecessary for good study.

As his bewilderment and surprise faded, James sat back against the desk and crossed his arms. "It was necessary. I know my friends. You don't."

"So you decided to take an oath without thinking through all the consequences of its terms?"

"I missed one, alright? I'm sorry,"

She sighed, obviously still upset, but realizing also that there was nothing she could do. She couldn't force him to destroy the oath. All that she could do was accept it and try to make the best of it. "So what now?"

"Huh?"

"You've taken an oath, albeit a foolish one, so what changes?" She finally crossed to the desk and took her spot on top of it.

"As far as I know, not much—for you at least." James hopped up completely onto the desk, finally relaxing seeing as Lily no longer seemed angry with him. "I'm now allowed to meet with you freely, so I don't see a reason why it should affect you."

"Good," Lily said, her face guarded against those thoughts that crept into her mind uninvited. They didn't seem to care that she didn't mean them or want them; they took up residence anyway in the crevices of her thoughts and feelings. "Now let's move onto business. We need to finalize Hogsmeade dates…"

* * *

On a Sunday morning, it was rare for Hogwarts to wake before eleven. Of course, there were those students who naturally woke early. They might go for a walk on the grounds or down to the Great Hall for a leisurely breakfast while it was mostly empty. Others retreated to the library or elsewhere around the castle to study, leaving the hall feeling deserted, the quiet lull of sleep still thickening the air and warning all to _hushhhhhh_ lest they wake others from their late-morning dreams.

The Gryffindor Common Room remained in this sleepy stillness well past the point where it was full of the thin light of morning. On the sill of the east-most window, Lily sat with her legs tucked beneath her and a guitar nestled in her lap. A subtle spell allowed her to play and sing quietly without disturbing the rest of her House.

The guitar had been a present for her fifteenth birthday after she'd spent the Christmas holidays learning to play on the one Frances had. Though Frances' old guitar had been broken in a fit of rage, Lily's was cherished. A silvery-blue silk ribbon was tied just above its neck. It had been there when she'd received the guitar and had simply never left. The scratches and nicks that covered its body made it look well-loved rather than poorly cared for.

Lily picked the strings gently. When she messed up the complicated introduction, she muttered curses through lips sticky with pink gloss that she wore to sing in because it made her feel beautiful.

" _Catch a boat to England, baby, maybe to Spain_ ," she sang. The melody was too low for her and sounded muted in her throat, then when it rose her high notes were thin and reedy. She didn't have a pretty voice. It was passable for lullabies or singing alone on a quiet morning, but that was all. " _Wherever I have gone, the blues run the game_."

The slight squeak of her fingers moving between frets became part of the quiet rhythm of the song. Her mother had bought the record when it came out. A six year old Lily had played with her dolls on the floor in front of the speakers, the sounds of Simon and Garfunkel's harmonies coming ingrained in her heart. "Wherever you go, you can't escape a little sadness," her mother had said when she'd asked what the song meant.

It was only years later that Lily had realized how true that was.

" _Livin_ _' is a gamble, baby—lovin's much the same_ ," she sang, stumbling for a moment when a soft, scratchy voice joined her, singing the harmony in a rather strangled falsetto. She looked up, strumming a few chords instead of picking.

It was Remus. He'd come down the stairs in a mauve bathrobe. Its hem was riddled with snags and holes where it was too long for him—an impressive feat: he stood two inches over six feet tall, and would seem bony if it weren't for the thin layer of muscle the wolf gave him. The robe had been a gift from his mother back before she'd known exactly how tall he would end up growing. She had over estimated. Sirius had turned it mauve.

"Good morning," he said once the song was over. "Sorry to interrupt."

"I don't mind," Lily said, smiling and scooting over so he could join her in the window's alcove. If he wasn't so thin they wouldn't have fit—not that they really did even so. "Do you know any more of theirs?" she asked.

Remus shrugged. "A little. Dad always liked the Beatles better."

Lily picked out a few notes— _Hey Jude, don_ _'t make it bad_ —and laughed breathily when Remus grinned and hummed along.

"Like that, yeah," he said. She kept picking as he sang. " _Take a sad song and make it better_ …"

The music carried up the stairs only until it hit Lily's muffling spell (one that only she and one other knew). Walking through the invisible curtain seemed to suddenly turn up the volume on a radio—making audible something you had been able to faintly detect, but not truly listen to. At the sudden sound of music, James stopped on the stairs and listened.

" _Hey Jude, don_ _'t let me down_ ," they sang in simple harmony.

James would have recognized Remus' voice anywhere. There's something about having a friend that close to one's heart. You know them like you know your own self—or perhaps even better for they are forever in front of your eyes and you can only ever see reflections of yourself in them.

As for the other voice, he couldn't be sure. It was simple evidence that he almost never woke this early. He didn't know any girls who played guitar. As quietly as he could, he slipped down the stairs, wishing a little that his animagus was less conspicuous so he could transform to his advantage.

The song continued and after a moment of indecision James realized that his best option was to pretend he hadn't been eavesdropping at all. So he picked up his pace to a normal one and walked as confidently as he could into the Common Room. His eyes were naturally drawn to find the guitar—it was Lily. Lily played that guitar. He hadn't known.

Lily's fingers nearly froze when James appeared. Though they'd moved past the issue, they hadn't parted on exactly friendly terms after their meeting. Their interactions had been stiff and cold all week—not from ill feeling as much as unresolved tension.

Remus gave James a wave that was returned with a nod and smile. Lily hesitated, still picking the chords out on the guitar. James was walking a way—Lily called out:

"James?"

He spun on his heel, quickly hiding his surprise at being address. "Yeah?"

"I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have been angry at you. It's your decision."

He relaxed and a wide grin spread over his face. "Thanks, Lily." He turned to Remus. "I'm getting breakfast, mate. Want to join me?"

"Not like this," Remus said as if it should be obvious, and held up his arms to show off his robe.

"Right," James said through a laugh. He left the Common Room in several long strides. Lily found herself able to breathe again, the hurt between them soothed. She began to pick a rolling pattern on the strings, though didn't begin to sing instead strumming along with the chords and humming the melody.

_I am a rock, I am an island_.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song quoted: "Eleanor Rigby" by The Beatles

In libraries, there is a general expectation of quiet. It is the reason that students choose to study there most often. And it's somewhat of a universal principle. You must be quiet in the library. For clumsy people, that makes libraries something of an awkward place: the natural tendency to accidentally make loud noises is at constant war with the strong desire to respect the rule and not make a fool of oneself.

And then, there are those who simply don't care and make loud noises anyway.

Sirius Black fit into the latter category.

The Hogwarts library might well have been the largest collection of old books in all of Great Britain. The wizards of the Middle Ages had been able to copy books much faster than muggle scribes, allowing for more copies, and therefore more books that survived the ravages of time. The oldest volumes there kept in glass-covered shelves up towards the high vaulted ceilings and protected with spells to slow their deterioration. Those books more commonly useful to students were more within arm's reach.

The shelves themselves were laid out in a musty maze coated in dust and the smell of ink and paper. This maze created dozens of little nooks and spaces for tables or armchairs or ledges on which to study. Remus and Peter's books were spread out over one of these.

Sirius' books were spread out on the floor. He was three feet away, leaning against a shelf and humming Blue Öyster Cult while thumbing through a book called _Weird Wizarding Dilemmas_.

"Hey Moony, how would you like your nose hair to grow in ringlets?"

"No thank you," Remus said, turning the page of his textbook and cross checking it with his notes.

"Suit yourself." Sirius shrugged and went back to his book. " _Come on baby, don_ _'t fear the reaper,_ " he sang quietly.

"Padfoot, cut it out," Remus said when Peter gave him a pleading look.

"Why?"

"It's distracting. And that song is morbid." He refused to look up at Sirius. Possible interest would only encourage him. Peter tried desperately to tune out his friends and focus.

"Morbid?" Sirius laughed. "What about your beloved Beatles? A Day In The Life? A guy blows his brains out—tell me that's not morbid as hell."

Remus glared at him, then pointedly turned back to his books. "Get some work done, Padfoot. You swore an oath, remember?"

Grumbling, Sirius slid the book back onto the shelf and sunk down to the floor. It wasn't that he was trying to break his oath. No, he merely did not require the same amount of study that his friends did. Usually James was with him in that, but no more now that his time was taken up by his duties as Head Boy. With a sigh, Sirius buried his head back within the books. At least if he got his work done now, he'd be able to better relax later. (And that thought sounded far too mature for him.)

"Oi, Black."

Sirius looked up to find none other than Marlene McKinnon standing above him.

"Yes?" he drawled.

"Is this section—" She looked down to read from the slip of parchment in her hand "—spell books for the animation of objects?"

Remus opened his mouth to answer, but was cut off by Sirius' response.

"Maybe. Why?"

"Because I'm looking for one," Marlene replied scathingly. "Where are they?"

In a fluid motion, Sirius stood and offered a bow. "If you'll follow me."

Marlene rolled her eyes, but did so. Even though she had her affections for Sirius, that didn't change her general demeanor: sarcastic and superior. If anyone could match Sirius line for line, it would have been her. She followed him, completely steady in the high heels she wore under her robes.

"Say," Sirius said as he examined the minuscule label on the end of a shelf, "did I see you at that club near Diagon Alley just before term started?"

"I don't know," Marlene said. "Did I see _you_ there?"

"I knew it was you." He looked over the first few titles on the next shelf, then moved on to the stack beyond it.

"Then what was the point of asking?"

"There's no need to be so scathing," he said, turning suddenly. Marlene barely managed to run into him, stopping inches from his chest.

"What can I say? Gits like you bring out the worst in me."

"Be careful or that scalding tongue will burn your pretty lips."

Involuntarily, Marlene licked her lips, tasting the chalky sweetness of her lipstick. "Not if it burns you first."

"I believe these are your books," Sirius said, nodding to the aisle beside them. He was painfully aware of how close they were and how easily it would be to lean in and break his oath.

"Thank you kindly," she said, not sound particularly grateful, but there was a playful smile in her eyes. Perhaps she was not entirely cold and unfriendly.

"My pleasure." He made no move to leave, waiting instead for her to step aside and down towards the books. He watched her go for a moment, then looked around quickly to make sure he had been unobserved in his observation.

* * *

As September continued, the weather grew both cooler and wetter. The chill damp seemed to ooze between the cracks of the castle's stones and fill every room and corridor. Sweaters became a common addition to the typical uniform. For the Seventh Years, the workload only increased. Most of them had made the mistake of thinking that the beginning of the year had been bad. But now that the review and introductory work was finished, their homework increased even more.

"Are they trying to drown us in paper?" Peter asked one evening when he had once again lost his notes in the layer of papers that stood several inches thick and completely covered his table in the common room.

"Yes," James said. There were ink marks on his forehead from where he'd rested it in his hands.

"Because the rain isn't enough," Sirius grumbled. "No, we need both water and paper for the full effect."

The last Saturday of the month was the Quidditch tryouts. The day was covered in dark grey clouds that looked like they might burst into tears at any moment. Fortunately the rain held off until James could replace the team members he needed. Remus and Peter spent the afternoon studying in the stands, umbrellas on the seats next to them and ready for use at a moment's notice. Lily and Emmeline joined them after lunch. Lily had always loved Quidditch. Though she could fly well, she lacked the ability to both fly and play the game simultaneously.

"I didn't expect to see you Saturday," James said at their next Heads meeting.

"I wanted to see what our chances looked like this year," Lily said. "And they don't look half bad." She took a bite of a blueberry muffin from the napkin laid out between them.

"Yeah. Wilkins and Carmody will need a bit of training, but I think there's some talent there. And Marion was simply amazing."

"No kidding," Lily said. "I've never seen a second year fly like that."

"How long have you been so interested in Quidditch?" James asked, trying to be polite and figure out if he ought to know the answer to the question.

"Since I first saw it played," Lily said, a grin coming over her face. "I'd never seen anything like it. It's fantastic. I don't think I've missed a House game since I've been here."

"Really?" James asked, his eyes lighting up with excitement. He'd had no idea. "So you saw the game last year where Sirius nearly killed the Hufflepuff Chaser?"

Lily laughed. "Yes! I mean, it's really not funny. But it still was." James began to laugh too and it was a while before they got anything done. Still, throughout the meeting he was just a little distant, a little distracted.

That night, the Marauders bid Remus farewell, biting their cheeks to hide excited grins. He really didn't look well, so smiles weren't appropriate at all. His usually thin face was hollow and the shadows beneath his eyes were nearly black. His eyes were bloodshot and instead of standing tall, his shoulders were hunched over as if his griffin bore several rocks on top of it. He nodded goodbye and hurried down through the Common Room before most people returned from dinner.

The other three hurried up to their dorm to eat the dinner they'd nicked from the kitchens. Their last few nights had been spent planning their coming adventure. It would be their first since March. Nearly six months had passed since they'd roamed together not as boys, but as creatures on four paws—or hooves, as the case may be.

Later that week found four boys sleeping on the worn desks of the Transfiguration classroom. After three attempts to win their attention, Professor McGonagall had given up, figuring that if they missed the basics of human transfiguration, it would be their loss.

Remus recovered quickly over the few days following the full moon. As always, he worried if anyone had figured out his "furry little problem"—maybe this was the time that someone would see the patterns and fit the pieces together. He walked those days with a knot of tension just below the griffin's heart, waiting for someone to accuse him of what he couldn't deny.

Evenings found him in his room with Sirius' record player—he'd asked his mother to send his record collection by owl post once he'd gotten permission to use it. Once he'd listened to "Eleanor Rigby" for the tenth time Sirius turned off the record player and threatened to curse the record beyond repair if Remus didn't turn it off.

"If it bothers you, you only had to say so," Remus said waspishly and retreated to his bed, pulling the curtains shut behind him. Sirius turned to James for assistance. With a flick of James' wand, Remus' curtains flew open to reveal him sitting against the headboard, he legs pulled up against his chest.

"Moony?" Sirius asked. Remus just turned his head away. "Moony, the song doesn't bother me."

Remus turned back to give him a perfectly arched eyebrow. His badly-cut hair was sticking up in the back and his shirt was unbuttoned, but still he looked condescending.

"Honestly. Eleanor's one of the better Beatles songs," Sirius said. Remus hmphed and turned away again.

"We don't like what it does to you, mate," James said.

"It's not doing anything," Remus said. "The monster in front of you does a lot. The song makes him feel better."

"You're not a damn monster," Sirius growled. "You're our friend. And you listen to this song cause you think it describes you."

Another raised eyebrow.

"Cut the shit," Sirius snapped. "You're not alone, Moony. And you won't ever be. I have full intention of sobbing at your funeral."

"That's so comforting."

"Snap out of it," James said, clenching his fists to keep himself from reaching out and shaking Remus to his sense. "You're not a monster and you're not lonely. I know you think you are, but you're not. You have us. Don't insult us by throwing that in our faces."

"Yeah," Sirius said. "Don't make me lick your damn face."

The evening ended with a large black dog chasing one Remus Lupin around the room while James and Peter collapsed on the floor in peals of laughter.

* * *

The N.E.W.T. Herbology course was not a particularly popular. Many students claimed this was because they didn't fancy the idea of plants trying to kill them on a regular basis. Frances, who couldn't see the lack of appeal in that prospect, assumed it was because the rest of them were too weak to deal with walking to the greenhouses in the cold.

Emmeline took the course mostly because Frances wanted company. Granted, it was also helpful for her interest in Potions, but the Venomous Tentacula almost made it not worth the risk. It seemed the overly-friendly and dangerous plant had an affinity for the silk scarves Emmeline loved to wear.

"I don't see why she can't just keep her nose to herself," Emmeline complained as they left the greenhouses, pulling their robes snug around them to keep out the cold October wind. "Honestly. I don't need her advice. She's a fourth year. What does she know?"

"Absolutely nothing," Frances said. The current subject of Emmeline's wrath was Jacqueline Vane, a Hufflepuff who seemed to see it as her duty to give fashion tips to anyone and everyone.

"Not that I'd want to dress like _her_ anyway," Emmeline continued. "Did you see what she was wearing last Saturday?" She shuddered. "It was positively garish."

They rounded the corner of the greenhouses, Emmeline still griping about Jacqueline. Frances grabbed Emmeline's arm and pulled her back. She held a finger to her lips then peeked around the corner of the rough stone.

In the middle of the small, arch-covered path back to the castle's interior, a group of students were gathered, all wearing green scarves. Slytherins—what looked like about a half dozen of the sixth and seventh year boys. Of course, there was nothing odd about students gathering together. But outside? And huddled together such, conversing in urgent whispers?

Among them was the greasy head of Severus Snape. He seemed to be doing most of the talking. Beside him was another boy with equally black hair, though his was considerably cleaner. He was considerably slighter, but his resemblance to Sirius was unmistakable. Regulus Black, the mysterious younger brother. Frances didn't know the others by sight, only that as a group they could only be up to no good.

Frances gripped Emmeline's hand hard, squeezing it both for comfort and as a reminder not to make a sound. Though from the strength of her grip Emmeline wanted to cry out.

After a few moments, Frances looked back. After a last word, Snape gave a nod that was returned by the others. The group then broke up and each moved off in a separate direction. Frances pulled her head back and pressed herself against the wall as much as she could. She tried to slow her breaths, not give away their presence. Beside her, Emmeline did the same, her hand inside her robes and on the handle of her wand. In her mind she ran through the incantations of every possibly useful spell in case they were discovered.

Regulus and another of the boys passed them by without notice. They were moving quickly, past the greenhouses and out onto the grounds. Once they were out of sight and earshot, Frances and Emmeline relaxed, letting out deep breaths of relief. Frances checked around the corner and nodded that the coast was clear.

"What was that about?" Emmeline asked. "Who was that?"

"Snape and Regulus. I think Avery and Mulciber too," Frances said. She sounded shaken.

Emmeline shuddered. "What were they doing out here?"

"I don't know," Frances said. They walked quickly back towards the castle, partly of cold and partly to get as far away as possible. "It looked like some sort of meeting. They were talking—I couldn't tell what about."

Biting her lip, Emmeline nodded.

"Do you—do you think we should tell Lily?" Frances asked.

"What for?"

"She's Head Girl," Frances said. "Don't you think she could do something?"

"About what?" Emmeline asked. "They haven't done anything. Talking suspiciously isn't against the rules. If it were then the Marauders would have been expelled years ago."

Frances still looked uncertain.

"Look, if something else happens, we'll speak up," Emmeline said. "But right now, we don't really have anything. And speaking up would only make it sound worse than it is. Lily doesn't exactly need anything more to worry about."

"Yeah." Frances sighed. It was true. Lily took being Head Girl so seriously. She was always doing extra work to make meeting smoother, to solve problems between the prefects or double check schedules for rounds. It wasn't that James wasn't doing his share of the work—much the opposite. It was simply that Lily had thrown herself into doing a good job. And once she'd put her mind to it, there was no stopping her.

"We'll keep an eye out," Emmeline offered, trying to soothe Frances' nerves.

"I'm fine," she said. "Really. We'll keep an eye out and speak out if it turns into something."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long gap in posting. I'm going to try to get back to posting regularly. The song is "Fooling Yourself" by Styx.

By mid-October, Remus had forbidden Sirius and Peter to join him in the library. The former spent the entire time singing and being generally distracting, while the latter wanted help with everything, leaving Remus no time to do his own work. As much as he enjoyed the work—and would forever be grateful for the opportunity to have it—the sheer volume of it was becoming overwhelming. Not for the first time, Remus silently blessed James for having come up with the idea of the oath. The added motivation for discipline was sometimes all that kept him going.

His favorite spot in the library was in the far back, at a table beneath the faint light of a window that was caked with the dirt of years without cleaning. It was a little-used section and was home to the library's small collection of storybooks. Remus was familiar with the contents of many of them. Either his parents had told him the stories as a child or he had read them in his first few years of school, before he'd found his friends.

Even over a fortnight later, James' and Sirius' words echoed in his head. _You_ _'re not a damn monster. You're our friend… You have us… And you listen to this song cause you think it describes you_. Perhaps it was the truth in them that had sewn the words into the forefront of his mind. Those words were weapons enough to fight back the dark thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him. For now, at least. When their sharp edges dulled, Remus had a wonderful feeling Padfoot and Prongs would be only too happy to give him more.

"Do you mind if I join you?"

Remus looked up in surprise. "Emmeline," he said. "Yes, of course." He moved his things off half the table so she had space.

"Do you come back here often?" she asked.

"It's my favorite spot," Remus said with a smile. "Has been for years. It's quiet and I'm surrounded by old friends."

"I know what you mean." She sat down and took a stack of parchment from her bag, each sheet covered in loopy cursive writing.

"You do? I didn't think you were the sort for fairy stories."

"We all have our mysteries, I suppose." She laughed a little. "My mum read them to me when I was little. The muggle ones at least. I always liked those better than the wizarding ones."

"Same here," Remus said. "The wizarding ones are so…"

"Moral?" Emmeline suggested. "It's always about the point with those. The muggle fairy tales always seemed more, well, magical."

Remus nodded. "And there's more variety. Did you ever read some of the stranger ones?"

"Yes." Emmeline's eyes lit up with excitement. "Which is your favorite?"

"Well, that's not a fair question," Remus complained, but all the same sat back in his chair and tapped his chin as he thought. "I'll have to go with _East of the Sun and West of the Moon_ ," he finally said. "It's an old Norse one—a beauty and the beast tale, but more complicated."

"That sounds fascinating."

"It really is." He stood and reached up the shelf behind him for a thick book. His sweater rode up a little and Emmeline only barely tried to avert her eyes politely. He lifted the book down and flipped through it until he landed on a well read, familiar page. Above the title was a pencil drawing of a magnificent castle made of ice.

"I have to work," Emmeline protested weakly even as she took the book in her hards and traced over the opening words with both her fingertips and eyes.

"Here, I'll mark the page and you can read it later," Remus offered, taking his wand and turned a piece of parchment into a dark red ribbon. He placed it in the book and gently closed.

"I'll read it before I sleep tonight," Emmeline promised, slipping the book into her bag.

"I hope you enjoy it," Remus said, sitting back down and picking up his quill. "Now to work?"

"To work."

And so they remained, studying quietly together and alternating glances across the table at each other.

* * *

For most people, birthdays lose their novelty with age. Young children wake early on the morning of their birthdays, nearly bursting with excitement. By the time one is grown, one realizes that being grown up isn't as exciting as they thought it would be. The desire changes from wishing to be older to wishing quite the opposite. Thus the passing of another year is only a mark that one has grown even further from where one wishes one were.

Even at eighteen, Sirius Black could have easily passed for a small child on the morning of his birthday. Perhaps to those who didn't know him well, it would be a sign of immaturity and shallowness. To those who knew him, it was quite the opposite for a simple reason: until coming to Hogwarts, Sirius had always dreaded his birthday.

His earliest birthday were faint in his memory, but each one that he'd spent at home had proceeded in the same manner. There was a sedate party with all of the relatives he disliked. They talked of boring things and usually there was at least one duel involving Dark Magic. The "party" included a formal dinner with the nasty sort of food that made the adults feel sophisticated and made every sensible child want to retch.

It took until second year for James to figure out that he must have missed Sirius' birthday and then to figure why that was. Every year after that, he and the other Marauders took it upon themselves to let Sirius have the sort of birthday celebrations he ought to have had as a child.

1977 was first year Sirius wondered if his friends had forgotten his birthday.

Of course, each of them wished him a "happy birthday, Padfoot" and indulged his usual bouncing off the walls. But then after dinner instead of heading back for their usual party in their room, James and Remus took off. They apologized and explained that there was no getting out of the prefects' meeting they had. So Sirius and Peter walked back up to Gryffindor tower just the two of them.

"So much for Prongs and Moony," Sirius said glumly.

"I'm sure we could find something to do the two of us," Peter said. "Don't you still have some butterbeer under your bed?"

"Yeah."

But the room seemed empty without the other two. Still, Sirius put a record on—Pink Floyd—and dealt a game of Exploding Snap. (The Marauders had long ago given up the usual rules: their version involved playing several hands at once and running around in circles to play all of your cards before you got singed.) The game was even more interesting with only two, seeing as they each had to play eight parts instead of four, and because Peter suggested that they only move in time with the music. It became a sort of dance: weaving in circles around brightly colored cards and jumping to avoid explosions and the scent of smoke and singed robes all to the sound of psychedelic rock.

When the album finally came to a stop, both boys were sprawled out on the floor. Their breaths came in heavy pants and wheezing laughter. This was punctuated by the occasional cough from inhaling too much of the now periwinkle-colored smoke that had collected to hover in a thin sheet about two feet off the ground.

James and Remus returned to find them as such.

For a moment, they could only stand in the doorway, mouths open slightly, trying to piece together what could have possibly happened. Then they broke into laughter.

Sirius leapt up at the sound. Some of the smoke stuck to him, forming small clouds on his head and shoulders. It only made him look more ridiculous when his mouth also dropped open.

James and Remus hadn't come empty handed. Their arms were full of brightly colored boxes and bottles of butterbeer and even one of firewhiskey.

"Happy birthday, Padfoot," James said, a grin on his face. He dumped the things on Sirius' bed and then leapt at him, nearly knocking him to the ground with the force of his hug. Sirius squeezed his best friend tight as he could, lifting the taller boy off the ground and spinning him around. Peter ducked to avoid James' foot. Remus picked up a cauldron cake and chucked it at them.

"Happy birthday, you moping mutt," he said, a fond smile on his face. "And no, we didn't forget."

"I didn't—" Sirius protested, pulling away from James.

"He totally thought you two forgot and abandoned him," Peter said helpfully. Sirius scowled. "Oh cheer up," Peter said. "They're here now and we have food."

The night dissolved into merriment and a temporary break from studying. With the oath's restriction of such levity, it was all the sweeter for its rarity. Having all three of his friends beside him, healed over the wound that had threatened to reopen in their absence. His fears of abandonment may have been ridiculous and unfounded, but like most fears, that didn't make them any less real or damaging. And for such wounds, laughter proved to be the best cure—and laughter was in no short supply that night.

* * *

It wasn't until she was in charge of things that Lily realized exactly how much work needed to be done. The position of Head Girl was always seen as an honor, not the full-time job it truly was. Lily found herself nearly collapsing beneath the weight of her responsibilities on top of her school work. By the time Halloween neared, Lily didn't know what she would have done without James beside her.

He managed his work with more efficiency than she could understand. Truly, it was the oath. Without the distractions of girls or idle amusement, James found it easier than ever to get his classwork out of the way. That left him time not only to take care of his Head duties, but to pick up some of Lily's as well—not that he ever did enough for her to notice. He didn't want a fight about equal sharing. He had the time and was happy to help.

The newfound efficiency also left him with more time to look after his friends. Not that they couldn't take care of themselves. They could. But the point was that they didn't have to.

As the moon waxed once more, Remus' health declined. James found himself spending much of his free time in the library with Remus and, oddly enough, Emmeline Vance. While Emmeline studied quietly or talked about stories with Remus, James kept one eye on his friend. There wasn't much he could do without giving Remus' secret away, but he tried what little he could. Nicking hot chocolate from the kitchens, mainly, and then sneaking it past Madame Pince to where Remus sat surrounded by books.

Lily spent her spare moments playing guitar. Though she'd loved the instrument from the moment she picked it up, she'd never before realized how necessary it could be to have it with her. The guitar didn't involve printed letters or magic spells. She could close her eyes and simply sing. It didn't even have to be a specific melody. And when she played there was only the sound and the taught softness of the metal strings and frets beneath her fingers.

Sometimes Remus would join her while she played, enjoying the sweet sounds of Simon & Garfunkel—it was a great improvement from both Sirius' singing and his records. The calming music helped him focus on his work when the library's solitude wasn't enough.

Although he'd lived through the transformation every month for most of his life, it never got easier. It was almost as if every time he had some sort of hope it wouldn't be as bad. Or else it was that while the moon waned he forgot the true intensity of the pain. The way his every bone and muscle ached in the week leading up to the transformation, enough that he could barely fall asleep and even then would wake in cold sweats and sharp, throbbing pain when the moon came out from behind a cloud. And with the onset of autumn, he caught every cold and flu that came through Gryffindor tower while his immune system tried desperately to fight off the monster within him.

The day before his transformation found Remus curled up on his bed with his Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook. He'd wrapped a blanket around his bare shoulders. It seemed as if his griffin's wings were extended and holding him an embrace, both comforting him and reminding him of their unnatural attachment to the lion. Strength and perversion. The wolf grew stronger in his mind, whispering that the strength was an illusion.

Around him, _The Grand Illusion_ played once again through the dorm. Sirius smacked the table with the beat as his lips moved with the words he was reading from his textbook. James had given up a half hour earlier and packed his things in a huff, telling Sirius to enjoy his music and then slamming the door behind him. Usually Remus would have followed him simply to get away from Sirius' taste in music, but leaving the room would involve wearing a shirt. And if he went to the library he'd most likely run into Emmeline.

It wasn't that he didn't like her—quite the opposite. It was just… the werewolf. He was in no state to associate with normal, healthy people. That meant avoiding Emmeline. And enduring Sirius' obnoxious music.

" _You see the world through your cynical eyes. You_ _'re a troubled young man, I can tell_ ," Tommy Shaw's voice sang from the record player. Remus considered hexing it simply for playing lyrics too close to his thoughts. He was held back only by the knowledge that hexing the record player would give him no way to play his Beatles records when Sirius was out. And, knowing Sirius, he'd likely put up some sort of ward against hexes.

With a sigh, Remus forced his thoughts back to his homework. He couldn't afford to both space out and miss days of class during his transformation. The latter was unavoidable. Therefore, focus.

* * *

Remus woke up the morning after his last transformation chilled to the bone. He found himself stretched out on the bed in the upper room of the Shrieking Shack, a fresh pair of clothes and a coat laid out on the chair next to him—well, more like piled. It seemed Sirius had dragged them there from where Madame Pomfrey had hid them the night before to protect them for the wolf's wrath. It was a nice enough gesture, despite the teeth marks. He'd have to ask Madame Pomfrey for a bag next month.

He dressed slowly, trying to spare his body any more agony. The memories of the night before came back slowly and in jagged pieces that didn't quite make sense. Snow flurries. The depths of the forest. The cold wind in his thick fur. The calming weight of Peter perched on his head. Usually he couldn't remember much, but since his friends had started to stay with him, he'd been able to remember more and more.

The snow. That's why he was cold. The thought came too slowly, only after quite a lot of reflection. He tried to hurry a little faster to pull on the robes that had been left for him, but his limbs protested. They were weak and would rather shake feebly than obey his wishes. He wished James or Sirius or Peter were here to help him with their strong arms and bodies untorn by any wolf.

James, Peter, and Sirius sat on the top step of the boys' staircase in Gryffindor tower. As soon as Remus appeared at the bottom, they ran down to him. James and Sirius caught his arms and supported him up on their shoulders, looking like competitors in an odd three-legged race. Peter took the ripped robes Remus had carried back with them and lead the others up to their dorm, opening the door ahead of him.

"Do you want a shower or sleep first?" James asked.

"Shower please," Remus murmured. He felt like his insides had been turned to ice and were weighing him down. "Snow is cold."

A trace of alarm raced through James. "Wormtail, start the shower. Make it as hot as you can."

"Can you stand?" Sirius asked.

Remus nodded weakly. His friends stepped back, but the moment they were gone he found his estimate quite wrong. He wobbled on his weak legs. They caught him before he fell.

"Apparently not," Sirius said with a trace of wry amusement.

James and Sirius helped him into the bathroom that was quickly filling with steam. Remus took a deep breath of the wet air and it warmed his frozen insides—a shock to be suddenly warmer without than within. James moved to unfasten his robes, but Remus shook his head.

"Give me a moment," he rasped. His throat hurt to speak. The warm air seemed to burn him. Hot water would be far too much of a shock, no matter how much he craved it. Once he nodded, James and Sirius began to undress him. He was too tired to care about his privacy. Not that it mattered. The other three had already seen him at his worst, his weakest, his most venerable—they had seen the wolf. No amount of nakedness could compare to that.

"You ready?" James asked.

"Okay," he said. James and Sirius helped him into the shower. The water was wonderfully warm against his freezing skin. Each drop seemed to blossom into beads of warmth that sunk through his skin and into his veins as if they were a healing rain.

"Do you need any more help?" Sirius asked, half as a joke to lighten the horrid mood. Remus shook his head with a small smile even though the motions hurt him.

His friends were once again waiting when he emerged, wrapped in his enormous mauve robe. Peter had left it for him on the bathroom counter. On his bed was most of his sweater collection—it seemed Sirius had tried to find the warmest one for him.

"Padfoot and Prongs left," Peter said from where he sat on his bed. His textbook dropped to his lap—it seemed they were only ever seen with books these days. "They had Quidditch practice."

"On a Friday morning?" Remus pulled on a pair of sweatpants and found the actual warmest of his sweaters in the drawer.

"You're usually in Arithmancy," Peter explained. "And no one on the team is taking that class, so they use the free period for practice."

"Obsessed much?"

"No, they sleep in on weekends instead of practicing at an unholy hour of the morning," Peter said, going back to his book once he saw that Remus was dressed without another sign of collapsing.

Remus thought about pulling out some of his own homework, but just then a wave of exhaustion hit him like a red London bus. He swayed a little, but caught himself by sitting down on his bed. "I'm going to sleep," he announced.

"Alright," Peter said, his voice laced with ill-hidden concern. "Want me to wake you for lunch?"

"Please." Remus' stomach growled at the thought. He'd missed breakfast and the transformation was enough work to make him ravenous. But even the thought of using energy to chew something sounded monumental at the moment. So instead he lay down and was asleep moments after his head hit the pillow.


	9. Chapter 9

By the next day the moon had begun to wane. With it, as it did every month, Remus' health began to improve. The increase in his energy and the new cheer to his demeanor lifted the weight of worry from his friends' shoulders. Though he was still weak, it felt more like the end of a bad head cold than anything.

That particular Saturday was unlike most. The whole castle woke for breakfast as they would for class. They gathered down in the Great Hall wrapped in coats and scarves. A sense of excitement gathered over the knitted hats. The sound of chatter and laughter filled the hall along with the clicks and rattles of dishes.

The Marauders entered just as the mail arrived in a cloud of feathers. They walked arm in arm, the four of them, happily laughing to disguise that James and Peter were supporting most of Remus' weight. They sat down just in time for an exhausted looking owl to drop a package in front of the fifth year Tomas McLaggen and then hit the table and slide through the plate of bacon in front of them.

Sirius poked the now greasy owl with his wand until it stood, looking rather shell shocked. Snapping its beak at Sirius, it half flapped, half walked its way back down the table to Tomas, who shrugged apologetically and gathered his pathetic bird in his arms.

"Are you sure you'll be able to go to the village, Moony?" Peter asked.

Remus said. "I already said it a thousand times: I'll be fine. I'm not truly sick. It's just…"

"Your furry little problem," James finished.

"Exactly," Remus said tersely. "But I'll be fine. Honestly. And if I get tired I'll sit in The Three Broomsticks. Promise."

After breakfast, the Great Hall rose nearly as one and headed out towards the Front Doors. Professor McGonagall and Professor Slughorn stood in the Entrance Hall, waylaying the third years who tried to get out of the castle without showing their permission slips.

James hurried ahead to help Lily guide the younger students, leaving Sirius and Peter to support Remus. Truly, he didn't believe he needed it. He could walk. He was a monster, not an invalid.

The air was cold enough for snow, but not yet biting. Still, the memory of waking in the Shrieking Shack was enough to make Remus pull his cloak tighter around his shoulders. A sudden fear struck him as they left the courtyard. He looked around, checking for tell-tale tracks that may have been left in the snow. The combined tracks of a werewolf, dog, and stag would be far too conspicuous.

"Calm down, Moony," Sirius whispered, reading his gaze. "We were in the Forbidden Forest all night."

They walked down the uncleared path to the gates—with only an inch of snow, the grass wasn't even covered and there was no point in clearing it away. The white was spotted with green dots, giving it the odd look of a half-way place. One of neither winter nor autumn, but a haphazard and clumsy combination of the two. The trees still had many of their leaves; their reds and oranges soaked with the early snow. Two beauties had collided, not to make a greater one, but rather to show the worst of each.

The village wasn't in a much better state. Without any of the Christmas decorations up, the snow seemed rather bleak. The frozen pumpkins and wreaths of leaves seemed simply sad.

"Honeydukes?" Sirius suggested as they walked down the street. The cobblestones were damp, the only real snow on them lay in the cracks between them, making a white lattice pattern on the ground.

"We promised James we'd meet him at the Three Broomsticks," Peter said.

"Oh yeah."

The pub was as busy as ever, stuffed to the brim with the black cloaks and robes of Hogwarts students as well as the more colorful ones of grown witches and wizards passing through the town. Although it wasn't unheard of to find non-humans there, those sorts usually favored the Hog's Head, where there was less discrimination from the other clientele. As it was still very early in the day, there were still a few empty tables.

Sirius managed to snag one by the stone fireplace. It was a little out of the way, so the noise of dozens of conversations wasn't as overpowering. Peter led Remus to the seat nearest the warmth of the fire. Although he despised being looked after because of the wolf, Remus couldn't help but feel grateful that his friends cared enough to bother doing so.

James arrived nearly twenty minutes later, looking quite harried. Lily was just behind him. They collapsed into chairs at the table.

"That was a nightmare," James complained. Sirius slid a butterbeer over to each of them. James took a long draught, then doubled over coughing from the strength of the drink.

"What happened?" Peter asked, looking worried.

"Nothing too unusual, from what I can gather," Lily said. She took a smaller sip of her own drink. "It's just that third years are incredibly difficult to direct."

"It was like herding cats," James said with a significant look at Sirius, who shuddered, muttering "cats" under his breath.

"I asked Marlene, Emmeline, and Frances to meet me here," Lily said. "Should we get another table—"

"Or you could join us," Remus suggested. "There aren't many tables left. We can all fit around this one."

[the rest of the girls arrive and there's some discussion of what to do. Remus and Emmeline end up staying behind while the other go off together. Outside, there's more discussion of where to go. James and Lily break off to go find some new quills while the others go to Honeydukes. Inside, they again split into couples, at the girls' suggestion. Truly, it's the girls who are leading this whole thing, and the boys are chivalrously going along without quite realizing how they're being played.]

Marlene, Emmeline, and Frances arrived in a flurry. They shed their outer layers and set down their butterbeers with cheerful hellos and complaints about the cold. The boys responded in kind and scooted over, drawing up chairs. The group of third year Hufflepuffs next to them glanced nervously at the seventh years as they sipped at their own drinks.

"So what are we doing today?" Marlene asked as the initial chatter died down, swinging her legs up on Lily's lap, who pushed them off before dirty water could wet her jeans.

"I need to visit Honeydukes," Frances said.

"And I need a trip to Zonko's," Sirius said.

"I'm sure you do," Marlene scoffed. "I also have some errands to run."

"Well, I need some quills and such," Lily said. "And I'd like to get there before they close at noon."

"Then we should leave soon," James said, looking at his watch. "I also need some parchment." Lily nodded and stood, pulling on her coat. The others did likewise.

"I think I'll stay here a while," Remus said, the only on not moving.

"Are you sure?" James asked quickly. "We can stay with you—"

"No, go ahead," Remus said equally quickly. "I'll be alright. You guys go ahead."

"If you're sure, mate," Sirius said. Remus nodded.

Emmeline sat back down. "Actually, I think I'll stay here with Remus, if that's okay."

The Marauders looked at each other in alarm. Each of the other three had errands to run, and it would be weird for one of them to stay. But neither could Remus be alone with Emmeline without violating their oath.

"It's okay," Remus said. "Pick me up some cockroach cluster, will you Frances?" He handed her a few knuts.

"Eww what do you need that for?" she said, but took the money. Remus forced a mischievous twinkle into his eyes, but said nothing. Now bundled up, the six Gryffindors made their way outside, leaving Remus and Emmeline alone. The wind outside had picked up and bit at their exposed noses.

"Where to now?" James said. "Scrivenshafts first?"

"Well, I don't need to go there," Marlene said. "And I'd rather not walk the distance. How about we split up?"

Lily nodded before any of the boys could say anything. "You have to go to Zonko's too, don't you Marlene? Why don't you and Black head that way? James and I can handle Scrivenshafts by ourselves, I'm sure."

"And you can come with me to Honeydukes, Peter," Frances said.

James, Sirius, and Peter looked at each other helplessly.

"Don't worry, I've got you guys," Peter said.

There was something about walking into Honeydukes that made one forget one's troubles. The whole shop was filled with this sweet warmth—not a sticky, lethargic heat, but the sort that came from a warm oven in a cold room. It enveloped one in a cloud of sugary scent.

The place was packed, as usual for a Hogsmeade weekend. It was plausible that the Marauders were the only students who had ever seen it nearly empty. The shelves were packed to the brim with brightly colored boxes and wrappers. The cases were full of chocolates and fudges. Polished cauldrons full of hard candies sat on small tables with paper bags nearby, waiting to be filled. There was a feeling wholeness, of pure innocence and excitement suspended in the air over the heads of the students.

Peter and Frances squeezed through the mass of students. She held on to his arm simply so they wouldn't be separated by the ever-moving crowd of students. "What do you want to look for?" he asked, raising his voice over the noise.

"Can we look for the peppermint toads? Maybe they've put them out for Christmas already."

Peter nodded rather than trying to shout and led the way to the back of the shop. There weren't as many people back there—it was where the less popular items were kept, and, unknown to most students, some of the specialty candies as well. Including peppermint toads.

"Here we are," Peter said. He took the lid from the glass jar and a white paper bag from the small shelf beneath it. "How many do you want?"

"Enough to last til Christmas," Frances said. "They're so good." Peter nodded and scooped out some of the hopping toads. Their rose pink bodies were covered in powdered sugar and they made high pitched _ribbits_ from time to time.

"It's wonderful to be out of uniform for a day," Frances said as they wandered down the next aisle, taking whatever looked interesting and putting it in a separate bag. She had shed her cloak when they first walked in and carried it over her arm, showing off the long, loose dress she wore. It was covered in small pink flowers and cinched with a brown woven belt.

"You look very nice," Peter said. She gave him a smile and continued walking. "What do you suppose Sirius and Marlene are up to at Zonko's?"

"They're probably snogging in a corner somewhere," Frances said. "I wouldn't worry about them."

"What?" Peter choked. If it weren't for the oath, he probably wouldn't have been so shocked. But he'd grown so used to the idea that the four of them stayed clear of girls that the idea came as a surprise.

Frances shrugged. "They probably are. I mean, Marlene spends most of her free time breaking hearts and crushing dreams, so I wouldn't put it past her."

"Right," Peter said. "Well, are you ready pay and head out?"

"Let's get out of here," she said. "It's much too crowded in here."

After the lovely warmth of Honeydukes, the half-snowy street only seemed more unpleasant. It wasn't made any better by the drearily overcast sky. Peter and Frances headed down the street, not quite knowing where they were headed, but not really caring either.

"Some parchment please," Lily told the clerk behind the spindly desk of Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop. The man nodded and limped into the back of the shop, his mouth etched in a permanent frown. Behind her, James wandered around the shop, looking at the various types of ink and quills for sale.

"Oi Lily," he called. She turned and he held up a florescent purple quill. "It's a fake. I don't think birds exist in this color."

She giggled, then straightened her expression quickly when the clerk reappeared. He seemed to be displeased by the presence of laughter in his establishment. "That will be eleven knuts," he said in a reedy voice.

Lily paid him quickly, then joined James where he was looking at a display of ink in every color imaginable. "Are you buying anything?" she asked. He shook his head and offered her his arm.

"Where to?" she asked.

"Dervish and Banges?" he suggested.

"Fine with me."

The main street of the village was bustling with both students and adults, each going about their business in cloaks. None of them seemed to notice their surroundings much. After a while, even a magical village became routine. Lily never let it become so. She walked slowly, looking around at the buildings and taking in the sights as if their magic would run out and they would vanish at any moment. Her distraction led to her running into James as they walked side by side. After a few bumps, he took her arm in his.

At the street corner ahead of them, a young boy of about seven or eight held a stack of newspapers and tried to sell them to passersby. As James and Lily passed he ran up to them.

"Would you like to buy a paper, sir? Miss?" he asked with a slight lisp.

"How much?" Lily asked.

"Four knuts," the boy replied proudly. Lily dug around in her purse and pulled out the coins. The boy happily handed her a newspaper.

"That was kind of you," James said as they walked away. Lily looked at him curiously.

"Kind? You do realize that I wanted to read the paper, right?" She laughed. "If I wanted to support a charity, I certainly wouldn't give my money to random little boys on the street."

"You don't already have a paper?" James asked, surprised.

Lily shook her head. "I don't have a subscription. I canceled it last year."

"Why?"

"I couldn't take it anymore." She sighed. "It sounds awful, I know. I should be more aware of what's going on in the world. But… it's so horrible. Every day there's more pain and more tragedy and I'm stuck at this damn school and can't do anything about it."

James reached over and laid his other hand over their linked arms. "I know," he said.

"I just hate knowing without helping." She gave a dark laugh. "It actually got pretty bad last year. I couldn't focus because I was so distracted by the outside world. I figure it's better to live a bit of a Hogwarts bubble. At least for now."

"It makes sense," James said. "So why'd you get the paper today?"

"I can't take having news every day, but I like to have some once in a while."

"You know what?" James said after a moment. "Dervish and Banges is going to be packed. I can go some other time—do you want to find a place to sit? A butterbeer sounds fantastic right now."

"Yes please to butterbeer." Her lips twisted into a sly grin. "And what do you mean you can go some other time?"

James tapped his nose. "Marauders' honor. Some things just have to be mysteries."

Lily rolled her eyes, but let the subject drop. She'd had her suspicions about the Marauders for years. Leaving them as suspicions couldn't hurt—at least, it wouldn't require her to turn them in for anything.

They wandered back down the street, stopping at The Three Broomsticks. Lily's heart sank a little. "We're rejoining Remus and Emmeline?" she asked.

James shook his head. "We'll get a table up on the balcony. They'll never know we were here."

They settled into a circular booth upstairs, leaning back into the bench that was only slightly more comfortable than the wooden chairs (their other option).

"Is there anything interesting happening?" James asked as Lily looked over the paper. He sipped his butterbeer, savoring the way it warmed one from the inside out.

"I've barely started looking," Lily protested, her voice distant as she spoke mechanically around her reading. _The Daily Prophet_ was always more interesting to read than any muggle newspaper. The moving pictures and flashing headlines took practice to get used to—for Lily's first few years, she'd been utterly overwhelmed by the amount of movement on the yellowish paper. The print stained the tips of her fingers black as she turned through the pages, looking for anything that might interest her.

James looked out over the balcony's railing, down into the main part of the pub. The dark wood of the walls absorbed the light from the candles in iron chandeliers and the two fireplaces. The ceiling was blackened with soot from their smoke. There was no way to fit any more tables on the floor. There was barely room to walk between them without hitting them and knocking over the small glass kerosene lamps that served as both centerpieces and illumination.

A gasp from Lily drew James' attention sharply back to her. "What is it?" he asked, looking over the paper for what might have alarmed her. She pointed to a small story on the bottom corner of page seven.

"There's been an attack," Lily said. "A six-year-old girl was killed by a werewolf the other night."

James looked over the article, praying that Remus had not seen it. "Does it say anything about where?"

"Nowhere near here," Lily said, leaning back and pressing a hand over her eyes. "It was a village near York. That's all it says."

"Did they catch the culprit?" James asked.

"No. The girl's parents think they saw a man hanging around the night before though. Not much is known about him, only that they're calling him 'Greyback'."

James swallowed and hoped even more that Remus hadn't read the paper this morning. He doubted it. Remus was still feeling pretty poorly after the full moon. But either way, this wasn't good. All it did was remind people of werewolves and that the full moon was recently. Then again, the article wasn't a big one.

"It's awful," Lily said, taking a deep breath. "And I can't believe it's hidden back here. I mean, shouldn't a werewolf attack be bigger news?"

"They're trying to hush it up," James said. "Isn't that what they always do?"

"I suppose." She sighed and closed the paper, folding it and slipping it into her purse. "I just wish we could actually get news from the newspaper and not whatever bullshit the Ministry wants them to print."

"Tell me about it." James took another gulp from his butterbeer. He nudged Lily's untouched bottle towards her. "A drink will help," he said once he'd swallowed.

She took his advice, but rather than gulping, she sipped slowly and stared off into the space over the balcony rail.


	10. Chapter 10

The first proper snow didn't come until nearly two weeks later. The students went to sleep in towers surrounded by green grass and woke to eight inches of white piled over the small, rolling hills of the grounds. It piled on the towers, sliding down the steep roofs to leave the topmost shingles bare and the lower ones covered in wrinkles where it didn't quite fall down to the ground.

Remus woke before dawn that morning. It was the New Moon, the day where he had the most energy, the best health. He felt nearly high on it. And then he realized that this must be what most people felt all the time and his heart quieted with the reminder of how broken he was. He showered and slipped into a pair of sweatpants, making his way quietly as he could to the little alcove where there was a window. It was the highest of the windows on the tower and the glass went all the way to the floor. It was just big enough for one of them to sit in—though in their early years they had fit two.

Remus gazed out over the fresh, untouched snow, marveling over how it was lit only by the bright stars. The moon was completely hidden. His bane, for now, was gone. He pressed the griffin back against the wall of the alcove. The stone was smooth and cold. It seeped into him and woke him from the hole of self-deprecation he'd started digging by habit. It was the New Moon: the one day he was free.

* * *

The weeks leading up to the Christmas holidays were marked by two things: broken quills and the corners of the eye.

Broken quills came in many types. The first one occurred near the end of November when Marlene snapped hers in half in a fit of rage after once again getting a "P" on her Defense Against the Dark Arts essay. Her actions prompted general sympathy from her fellow Gryffindors seeing as they'd witnessed her painstaking effort on the essay in the days preceding the poor mark.

While the others weren't nearly as dramatic, a collection began on the mantelpiece of the Gryffindor Common Room's fireplace, much to the confusion of the younger students. Marlene's elegant black quill, now in two pieces, lay at the bottom of the pile. It was covered by various quills with everything from a broken nib to one that Peter had accidental set aflame in Charms, leaving him with a blackened rachis that threatened to disintegrate at the slightest touch.

They came to be added gradually, each with its own story. Most of these stories had something to do with the mountains of homework the seventh years were assigned to get through. A few came from other places. One speckled brown one had been sent to Remus by his mother, but proved to be faulty as it snapped the first time he tried to set it to paper. Remus then returned to using his own quills and silently added the next quill his mother sent him to the pile without even trying it.

The corners of the eyes weren't so obvious. And really, it wasn't the physical features themselves that were significant, but the glances made through them. There wasn't really a discernible first one, though there was a last.

Perhaps these glances had always been there. Perhaps they'd been taken so subtly they had gone unnoticed. Or perhaps they weren't there at all before and simply began one day. A quick flick of the eyes to look across the table in the library. A small turn of the head to see down the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. A natural look that lasted a moment too long on top of a desk in an empty room. A glimpse over the shoulder after passing at the portrait hole.

Sometimes these glances were noticed, but often not. More often they were marked only by suddenly seeing someone looking off intently away, too focused to quite be believed. They started slowly, but like any addiction grew in frequency until they became second nature. Only great force of mind and will could keep eyes locked ahead, chained from an instinctive slide to the corner for yet another glance.

Of course, for men of their word, these glances were only ever that: innocent looks, nothing else. To even consider any other intent or meaning behind them would be to put a stain upon a brother's honor. No other possibility could even be thought of. Oaths, unlike mere promises, were not made to be broken.

The last glance was different than the others. It didn't observe unknown to its subject. In the last glance, two happened to glance at the same moment. Their eyes locked as they would not have if either had chosen a moment earlier or later to look. But their eyes locked and then they were ripped away.

It happened like this:

As every year, the red train pulled into Hogsmeade Station the day after the last day of class. Most of the student body gathered in the Entrance Hall after breakfast, and, waving goodbye to their friends staying behind, then left the castle as a group. Outside were the black carriages that took them to the train. The Marauders, as they were both taller and faster than the rest, managed to get one of the first carriages all to themselves.

"Come on, Padfoot," James said as soon as they were in the carriage, continuing the argument they'd started in their room that morning. "I get that you want to have your own place, but it's just for the holidays. And you should spend those with family anyway."

"Family?" Sirius scoffed. James rolled his eyes.

"Not them, asshat. Me. My dad. Your friends. Your real family."

"The others won't be there," Sirius pointed out.

"What?" James looked to Remus and Peter.

"Mum wants me to stay with her the whole time," Peter said sadly. "She misses me. Especially now that she doesn't have dad."

"Moony?" James prompted, hope in his eyes.

Remus shook his head. "The full moon is the twenty-fifth."

"Damn it," Sirius said. "Christmas Day—I didn't realize. I'm sorry. Damn, that sucks."

"But can't you still come stay with us?" James asked. "Dad knows about your furry little problem. We can make arrangements—"

"You don't have a place that will hold me."

"But we can keep you in check. Sirius and I—"

"And how will you explain _that_ to your dad?" Remus asked. "I'm fairly sure you haven't told him that you're an illegal animagus. Your dad might be a wonderful man, but he works for the Ministry. There's no way to explain it." He forced a smile. "I'll be okay. I'll write and try to see you at New Years."

James nodded sadly. "Okay—but really Padfoot. I'll be lonely without you."

"James—"

" _Padfoot_ —"

"Fine." Sirius threw his hands up in the air. "I'll stay with you. Just let me go to the flat to get some things first."

"I could help," James offered, catching the possibility of Sirius slipping away the moment he was unobserved.

"If it makes you happy, fine," Sirius said, sounded annoyed but with a hint of affectionate amusement.

Once the carriages reached the station the Marauders hurried to get "their" compartment before anyone else took it. Not that anyone else would have dared sit there. It was commonly known to be the Marauders'. James and Peter lifted the trunks up into the luggage racks while Sirius stretched out on one of the benches. His lounging lasted a total of five seconds before Remus pushed him off onto the floor and sat down by the window. Scowling, Sirius got up and sat down beside Remus with his arms crossed. His pouting had no effect, other than to make Peter snicker.

James sat down across from Remus and leaned his head against the window, looking out over the platform. It was always a surprise to him how many of the students he didn't know. It wasn't from a lack of caring—there were simply too many younger students that he'd been too absorbed in his own life to get to know. Mixed in the crowd of black cloaks was a familiar group of girls—Lily, Marlene, Frances, and Emmeline.

"Hey Prongs, up for a game of Exploding Snap?" Peter asked. James tore his gaze from the platform and nodded to Peter, who fished a deck of cards from his pocket and began to deal them out into four piles.

"I'm going first," Sirius announced. Remus rolled his eyes but nodded.

"Prongs?" he asked, noticing that James' eyes had glazed over again. "Prongs, you with us?"

"What? Yeah. I'm here," he said. Yet one last time, his eyes flicked toward the window. It was just a glance. And for just a moment, his eyes locked with a pair of green ones.

* * *

Christmas has a way of being either the best or worst time of the year. For most people, there is little in between. It is either/or. Good or bad.

For James and Sirius, it was wonderful. Honestly, James had expected it to be horrible. It was the first year without his mother and the first time that he, his dad, and Sirius had been alone together since that time. His nerves turned out to be completely unfounded. While the hole left by Dorea's absence was undeniably present, it wasn't as bad as expected. There was a sense of remembrance about those weeks, both of the good times and the bad.

And if anything, it taught James one thing: though his mother hadn't died until February, they'd mourned her for long before that. Once that thought occurred to him, it spun everything on its head. For the first time, he could see the dark thunderclouds of worry and sickness that had hung over their house for years. Dorea's struggle had been straining the whole family to the point where their whole reality was splintered, the cracks full of some dark abyss. Now those cracks had been resealed.

Sirius, too, had come with the same expectation. While the Potters' house had always been a place of joy for him, he had only ever known it under the shadow of Dorea's sickness. Even a house of illness was infinitely better than his childhood home, so he had barely realized that it could be better. It was already unimaginably so.

Christmas 1977, Dorea Potter was at peace. Her family could finally have true joy.

Expectations are funny things though. While James and Sirius expected to be miserable, they were truly happy. And while Lily expected a peaceful and restful holiday, it was anything but.

In her four months at school, she had forgotten about Petunia's wedding.

The moment she walked in the door of her house, it all came rushing back. The ceremony was set for the ninth of January, three days after Lily would return to Hogwarts. Petunia had set it that way on purpose. Of course, Lily's parents tried their best to have a proper Christmas. And many of the traditions were there.

That was when Lily learned her lesson: it is not traditions that make a holiday, it's the heart behind them. Her family went through the motions, but their every energy was spent on preparations for the wedding. Preparations that Lily was required to help with. (Neither Lily nor Petunia was happy about that—Lily because she wasn't invited and Petunia because she didn't want the freak to besmirch her wedding.)

By Christmas Day, all Lily wanted was to return to Hogwarts. Even with the oceans of work that consumed her there, she would rather return than sit another hour in the same room as her sister's glares. The only relief she found was nearly a week after Christmas when she managed to steal away from the house for a few hours. She met Marlene, Emmeline, and Frances at a diner near Frances' house.

"Did you have a good Christmas, Frances?" Marlene asked as they sat down at a table, pulling off hats and coats.

"It was alright. Mum tried to talk me out of what she called 'this dreadful hippie phase' again. But dad stayed out of it, so suppose that's tacit permission." She rolled her eyes. "Anyways, I keep running into Peter in the park when I go ice skating."

"Peter Pettigrew?" Emmeline asked. "What's he doing there?"

"Don't ask me," Frances said. "I mean, he lives around here, so it's not that odd. But still. He's always sitting on a bench reading."

"Have you talked much?" Lily asked, a grin coming to her face. What a relief it was to become absorbed in news that wasn't her own.

"A little," Frances said, blushing a little. "He's really very sweet." Lily sat back in her chair, grinning at her friend's happiness.

And so 1977 came to a close. Its ending seemed odd when taken on its own—too many unresolved desires and an odd mix of happiness and sorrow. Yet it wasn't a story on its own: with the end of one year came its continuation in the beginning of the next.

1978.


	11. Chapter 11

"Gentlemen, I hereby call this meeting to order," James announced, standing up on a chair in the middle of their dorm.

"And I call it to chaos," Sirius said. He lay across the top of his trunk on his stomach, fiddling with his record player. He'd received several new records as Christmas presents—news that had made Remus quite nervous upon hearing of it.

James pointed his wand as his bed pillow and it flew across the room to whack Sirius over the head. Sirius merely Banished it back in James' direction.

"Padfoot, shut up and listen," Remus said. "It won't kill you to wait ten minutes to blast out our eardrums."

"It might," Sirius said, rolling over. He looked quite ridiculous—in no way did he fit on top of the trunk. Instead he was barely supported with his long limbs hanging off all over the place. "And anyways, you're just saying that because you don't like my music."

Remus responded with a Silencing Charm. Sirius removed it nonverbally within seconds, but took the hint and remained quiet.

"All I wished to say," James said, "was that we're now halfway through our oath. We have made it this far. There's only a few more months left to go." He jumped down from the chair as soon as the words left his mouth. He stalked over to his bed and flopped down on it, Summoning a piece of parchment and quill to doodle with.

"How was your Christmas, Moony?" Peter asked, trying to release the tension in the room.

"It was alright," Remus said with a weary smile. "Not great because of the full moon, but it was alright." He turned back down to the book he was reading, but found himself unable to focus on the words. There was no real reason for him to lie, but it had slipped out almost without him realizing it.

Truly, his Christmas had been awful. As always, he had been ill around the full moon, which this time had been in the days leading up to Christmas. His mother, bless her, had tried her best to make him comfortable. She'd given him every remedy she could think of, refusing to believe there was no way out of his discomfort. Remus knew better, as, it seemed, did his father. But Hope Lupin wouldn't give up and Remus didn't have the heart to refuse her.

The holiday was quiet, just the three of them. His parents tried to pretend that going to fetch their son out of a locked iron shed on Christmas morning didn't put something of a damper on the peace and joy of the day. His mother had cried when they locked him up again that night, just as she had when he was a little boy and she thought he couldn't hear her. His mother's tears had pleased the wolf, making it even more unbearable in his mind than usual. The wolf liked Hope Lupin's pain—and that was what weighed most poisonously on Remus' heart.

Having apparently concluded that all orders of business were complete, Sirius set a record on and turned it up as loud as he could. The rough guitars blared from the speakers, filling the room with the sound of Blue Öyster Cult. Sirius rolled off the trunk and onto the floor, letting the music fill him as he beat the air in time with the drums.

" _This ain't the garden of Eden—there ain't no angels above_ ," he sang with the scratchy voice on the recording. " _Things ain_ _'t what they used to be, and this ain't the summer of love_."

"It's January," Remus called waspishly at the lyrics. Peter giggled, much to Sirius' annoyance.

"I hardly think that's the point," James said from the bed where he was drawing out his plans for the next Quidditch practice. After losing 160-150 against Ravenclaw, they needed to step up their game.

Peter picked up the record sleeve just as the song ended. "Well, 'Don't Fear The Reaper' is after this one," he said. "Brace yourself, Moony."

Remus rolled his eyes. Of course it had to be _that_ album that Sirius got for Christmas. "I'm going for a walk," he announced, picking up a sweater from the floor next to his bed. "Come rescue me if I'm not back before dawn."

"We'll drag your ass back long before then, don't worry," James said. Remus smiled and shook his head, sticking his wand in the back pocket of his jeans and leaving the dorm.

The snow had melted over the New Year, leaving everything rather damp and wilted. The final leaves had finally fallen from the trees, but not yet disappeared into the ground. Rather, the wet caused them to stick to everything they touched—mostly shoes that then tracked them into the castle. After melting the snow, the temperature had dropped again, making the met grass slick with bits of ice. Although it was barely evening, the sun was already mostly set. The air had a fuzzy, deep blue color that seemed to hang in suspended like a dye in clear water. It was offset by the warm yellow glow from the windows of the castle. Their light also seemed to have a physical presence. It seemed like a soft, glittering cloud one could simply reach out and touch.

Remus wandered aimlessly on the grounds. He hadn't really wanted to go outside, only to get away from Sirius' recorded noise. His head was too full of thoughts to deal with it.

In the blue dusk, everything seemed to merely be a black shadow. An absence of the soft blueness' existence, an abyss. Remus wandered, studying the outlines of shapes on the moonless, starless sky. The new moon was soon, and any sliver there might have been was hidden by clouds.

He stopped when he found himself below a large shape that curled into the sky like the outline of a floral wallpaper. It was moving back and forth in the breezeless night, the ends of its branches lazily curling and uncurling, like fists before a fight. The Whomping Willow. The only legacy he'd leave Hogwarts would be the sign of his shame that would be a danger to students for years to come.

Taking a deep breath to retain his composure, Remus turned and hurried back towards the castle. Instead of returning inside, however, he started off towards the greenhouses. There he walked along the bridges and their parapets. His shoes tapped on the slick stone with each step.

Sitting in an alcove beneath the lantern of one of the bridges was Emmeline. Remus, absorbed in his own brooding, did not notice her. She saw him though, and looked up from her book. For a moment, she hesitated, not wanting to startle him or obligate him to speak to her. But then she saw in her mind the mocking expression Marlene would have at her hesitation and spoke up.

"Where are you headed?" she asked.

Remus looked up with surprise. "Nowhere," he said. "Just wandering. Sirius is playing loud music again."

"Ah," Emmeline said, sliding off her perch. "Mind if I join you?"

"Not at all."

They fell into step together. Emmeline held her book with two hands in front of her. Remus had his hands stuffed in the pockets of his jeans.

"What were you doing out here?" he asked.

"Trying to find a quiet place to read," she said. That wasn't exactly true. She'd been waiting for Frances to finish checking on her plants after weeks away from them. Preferring to sit out in the cold rather than face the Venomous Tentacula, she'd selected her alcove and told Frances she'd wait for her. She only hoped that walking with Remus would be an adequate excuse for abandoning her friend.

Remus nodded, accepting her answer whether he believed the lie or not.

"Did you have a nice holiday?" Emmeline asked.

A bit of panic pinched Remus' chest, but he spoke through it. "It wasn't the best. But that's alright."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault." He gave her a small smile. "How was yours?"

"Nice," Emmeline said after a moment. "Being of age certainly helps—I can help my mum magically with all the holiday preparations."

"That must be nice," Remus said.

"Yeah." She laughed a little, ducking her head. "My dad's still amazed by it all. He's been married to a witch for nearly twenty years and magic still fascinates him."

"My mum's not so fascinated anymore," Remus said. Her fascination had died with their years searching for a cure to lycanthropy. When magic can't cure your child, it loses its charm. "She uses it all the time. She's a muggle, so she can't properly, but my dad makes potions she can use and she helps tend some magical plants."

He held the door open for her and they entered the castle, breathing deeply of the warm air. Emmeline led him to sit down nearby in a window's alcove.

"Tell me about your parents. What do they do?" Emmeline said, leaning forward, a smile on her face.

* * *

The next morning, Remus woke with the name "Emmeline" on his lips. It was then that he realized he was screwed.

For the rest of the day, his mind was locked in silent battle with itself. Really, though it was less of a battle and more of a constant and persistent squashing of all thoughts that might break his oath. No girls for one year. He'd thought it would be easy. After all, he'd never really been that interested in one. Sure, they were attractive, but he was always cautious and distant from all who didn't know about his furry little problem. They only girl at Hogwarts who knew was Lily Evans. And, well, they'd discussed it. Being together. But in the end had decided they were better as friends.

So of course he had to start falling the one year he'd sworn not to. On his honor as a Marauder, he'd resist it. If not just for the sake of the oath, for Emmeline's sake. He cared—oh damn it that he cared—enough to know she'd be better off with anyone else but him.


End file.
